Turn it Around
by willyoupleasebequiet
Summary: The first time I met Edward Cullen, he had blue hair and wore a panda hat on his head. The second time, it was at a wedding and I convinced him to spend ten days in London with me. The third time, I shaved all his hair off on national television.
1. Prologue

_**One of the remarkable things**_

_**about love is that,**_

_**despite very irritating people **_

_**writing songs and poems**_

_**about how pleasant it is,**_

_**it really is quite pleasant.**_

_~ Lemony Snicket, __Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid_

=\\\=

_Further down the road…_

Tanya pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and pressed the button on her e-reader to turn the page of the book she was reading. Her phone beeped, alerting her of a new text message. Tanya took a sip of her tea as she checked her phone but held the tea in her mouth, staring at the text with wide eyes.

**Getting in the car. eta 15 mins to yours.**

Tanya finally swallowed her mouthful of tea and hurridly texted back a reply, pushing off her blanket.

**Okay! Already halfway ready.**

Tanya spent the next fifteen minutes rushing around her bedroom, changing out of her sweatpants and ratty t-shirt and trying to find something suitable to wear to dinner. Settling on a frilly white blouse and pale pink dress pants, Tanya was buttoning up her coat and pushing her feet into her shoes at the same time, when a car beeped from the front of her building.

Tanya glanced out the window and through the rain outside she could make out her sister's car waiting at the curb. She grabbed a few basic makeup items from her bathroom and threw them in her purse before leaving.

Holding the purse over her head, as cover from the rain, Tanya rushed out her front door to the passenger side of Kate's car.

"Hi," Tanya greeted breathlessly.

Kate watched her sister buckle her seatbelt. "You're such a liar."

"All I said was 'hi.'"

"_Already halfway ready!_" Kate mimicked Tanya's voice as she pulled away from the curb. "Liar. I knew you would forget about tonight. I knew it."

"No I didn't! I was ready," Tanya lied.

"I bet you were having coffee and watching a movie or some TV show on your laptop. Or something equally boring."

"I wasn't! I was–" Tanya began to argue but then quickly gave up. "Okay, yeah. I forgot," she relented. "And it was tea and I was reading a book."

"I knew it," Kate repeated. She glanced over at Tanya at a red light, giving her the once over. "What are you wearing? Are those pink pants?"

"You sound like Mom."

"That blouse makes you look like Mom."

Tanya gave her sister a scathing look. "Remind me why you're making me go to – uh, go to this…" she frowned. "Where are you making me go again?"

"To Garrett's work function," Kate said with exasperated emphasis. "And I'm making you come with me because a) you dragged me to your boring as all hell Christmas work party; and b) it's Saturday night and you were drinking _tea_ and reading a _book_. Are you twenty eight or eighty eight?"

"Sorry we can't all meet our soul mate at college and be married at twenty five," Tanya scoffed, referring to Kate and her husband Garrett. "And I don't know why you're complaining about my Christmas party, Miss I–had–four–Vodka–cranberries–and–two–Midori–lemona des."

Kate shrugged, trying to fight back a smile. "Well, your rock star magazine is the only workplace that doesn't skimp on booze at Christmas party time."

"Music magazine," Tanya corrected.

"Same thing," Kate dismissed.

They arrived at the restaurant and checked in their coats at the entrance before the host seated them at a long table. They were the first ones there and after finding their names and respective seats, Tanya told Kate she was going to the ladies room.

"To use the bathroom or to do your makeup?" Kate questioned. Tanya ignored her and headed for the ladies. After putting on a light layer of make up, Tanya returned to the table in time to catch Kate rearranging the table seating, switching Tanya's name card with another one.

"What are you doing?" Tanya asked suspiciously, startling Kate.

"Oh, I was just splitting up the table so it's Garrett's old crone colleagues down one end of the table and the young ones down the other," Kate remarked breezily.

Tanya gave Kate a skeptical look. "Who's the liar now?"

Kate didn't answer, her face lighting up as she looked over Tanya's shoulder. "Oh! They're here."

The next few minutes were a flurry of people arriving, which included Kate's husband Garrett, and introductions were made, increasing the noise level in the restaurant. People took their seats, Kate and Tanya sitting beside each other at the end of the table, with Garrett and another man opposite them. Garrett's boss stood up and made an incredibly dull and lengthy speech that Tanya tuned out. Finally, the speech was wrapped up, drink orders were placed and conversation around the table began to pick up.

This gave Tanya the chance to check out the man sitting directly opposite her. He was pretending to be interested in the scenery out the restaurant window but Tanya noticed it was a cover to smother a yawn into his shoulder. He looked to be around the same age as her and she took in his details – the hazel eyes, tousled dark hair that was a little too long, and his pressed suit.

The suit made Tanya wary – it screamed power and a firm handshake, similarly to the rest of Garrett's colleagues. Tanya figured the man would be on par with Garrett's boring old man boss but there was something striking about him too. Maybe it was the fact that he had stifled seven yawns during the old man's speech (Tanya counted) or the fact that he was devastatingly good looking (she wasn't blind).

Kate noticed her sister's eyeballing and cleared her throat. "Garrett," she said to her husband. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" her eyes darted pointedly to the man sitting next to Garrett.

"Sorry, dear. How despicably rude of me," Garrett teased and Kate rolled her eyes. Garrett clapped a hand on the man's shoulder, forcing his attention away from the window. "EJ – I'd like you to meet my beautiful wife, Kate and her slightly more beautiful sister, Tanya."

"Excuse me?" Kate prompted him, but she was teasing.

"I said 'slightly'," Garrett replied innocently.

"Thanks, Garrett," Tanya said with a laugh. "I think."

"Nice to meet you both," EJ remarked, smiling. When he did so, Tanya noticed that he had a dimple on only one side, and something about that made him seem endearingly off balance.

"EJ used to work for the firm in Chicago that we just merged with," Garrett explained to Kate and Tanya. "He got shipped out here to San Francisco to work with us."

"It must have been hard to leave all your family and friends in Chicago," Kate stated sympathetically.

"Actually, it wasn't," EJ remarked with a shrug. "My girlfriend and I broke up three months ago and my parents live in England. Not much of a hard decision to move here."

"You're English?" Tanya prompted, her interest piqued.

"You've got her attention now, EJ." Garrett grinned at Tanya. "Tanya has a thing for English boys."

"No I don't!" Tanya cringed in her seat, embarrassed. Garrett and Kate laughed. "I just like the country. London is one of my favorite cities," she added to EJ.

"It's a great city," EJ agreed. "And to answer your question, I'm not English. I was born here, in the US but moved to London when I was four and went to school there but moved back to Chicago for college. My parents are American too but they've lived in London for a while now. That's how much they love it there."

The conversation stalled as waiters appeared table with their food orders. The din of the table rose as forks and knives were clanged together and the alcohol flowed more freely. Garrett, Kate, Tanya and EJ talked amongst themselves, the older people at the table not bothering to acknowledge them in conversation. Tanya noticed EJ smother another three yawns during the two-course dinner. The count was now up to eleven yawns.

"Long day?" Tanya prompted EJ as he tried to cover yawn number twelve.

"Jet lag," EJ answered, looking sheepish. "It was my parents thirtieth wedding anniversary over the weekend and my brothers and I flew to London as a surprise for them. I flew in this morning and went straight to work from the airport."

"Is it compulsory for you to be here at this dinner?" Tanya asked, puzzled. "Why not just go home and sleep the jet lag off?"

"It isn't compulsory and I had the same idea once I finished work. But Garrett –" EJ gave his co-worker a flat look. "Threatened bodily harm if I didn't come tonight and practically dragged me here. It didn't make sense to me at the time, but now I'm starting to see why he wanted me here so badly," he added dryly, giving Tanya a knowing look which she didn't understand. Why did Garrett drag EJ to dinner?

Garrett seemed to be on the same wavelength as EJ though. "You're new to the city," he stated, looking mock innocent. "I just thought you could make some new friends—is that so bad?"

"That sounds like something my mother would say," EJ retorted, taking a sip of his drink.

"Your mom!" Garrett blurted out. He threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, man, I can't believe I totally forgot to mention this. You two will get a kick out of this," he added, gesturing to both Kate and Tanya. "You especially, Tanya." Garrett pointed to EJ. "EJ is Isabella's Swan's –"

"FAN," EJ interjected loudly. So loud, that the conversation at the other end of the table halted as they glanced over in irritation at EJ. "Fan," he repeated in a normal tone. Garrett, Kate and Tanya eyed EJ with equally puzzled stares. "Yeah. I'm a fan of Isabella Swan."

"Right…fan," Garrett echoed slowly. He tilted his head at EJ, who shot him a warning look in return. "That's what I was going to say – EJ is Isabella Swan's fan."

"False," Kate remarked teasingly. She nodded to Tanya. "No one knows Isabella Swan like Tanya does. You have nothing on my sister, believe me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Garrett said cryptically, smirking in EJ's direction who ignored him. "Did you know," he continued, talking to EJ. "That Tanya is a music journalist? She gets paid to fly around the world and rub shoulders with very famous singers and musicians." He turned to Tanya. "Who was it that you interviewed last?"

"Uh, I talked to an indie rock band from Atlanta on Monday," Tanya answered, slightly confused.

Garrett shook his head impatiently. "No, no. Before that."

"Before that was a boy band from New Zealand who are trying to make it in the US."

"The last _person _you interviewed," Garrett emphasized, rolling his eyes.

"Ohh," Tanya remarked in realization. "It was Isabella Swan."

"Isabella Swan," Garrett echoed, looking triumphant which confused Tanya and Kate. "Did you hear that, EJ?" he prompted, grinning at him. EJ huffed in response. "Tanya got to interview Isabella Swan."

"Why wouldn't he hear that?" Kate questioned her husband. "He's sitting right next to you."

"That job sounds great," EJ said, smiling at Tanya, but it looked slightly forced. He cleared his throat. "So, who else have you –"

Garrett's face lit up and he cut off EJ's attempt to change the subject. "Say, Tanya," he directed, giving EJ a grin. "Don't you have a photo with you and Isabella? I think you should show EJ, Isabella Swan's _fan_, the picture."

Kate and Tanya stared at Garrett oddly before Tanya shifted to look inside her purse for her cellphone.

"It's from our interview in London two months ago. Excuse my overly excited face," she added sheepishly, handing the phone to an excitable looking Garrett and a reluctant EJ.

The photo was set in what looked like a pub or restaurant. Tanya, smiling widely, stood with Isabella Swan, posing in front of the bar in a sideways hug. Isabella Swan was smiling also, not as wide as Tanya, but it was a warm one. She was beautiful, still slender and didn't look like she was in her fifties. She had a soft, earthy look, with wide brown eyes and thick dark hair.

"What a great photo," Garrett stated with a wide smile. He was holding the phone between himself and EJ. "Don't you agree, EJ?"

"Yes," EJ replied tightly. He glared at Garrett who continued grinning. "It's a great photo. You look great," he directed at Tanya. "You both do."

"And who was it that took this photo, Tanya?" Garrett tapped the screen and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I remember you telling me but my memory is woefully bad these days."

Kate frowned at her husband. "How much wine have you had? You're acting very strange."

"Edward Cullen took the photo," Tanya answered Garrett's question and EJ dropped her phone.

The phone clattered loudly against the tabletop, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers that sat in the middle.

"Sorry," EJ said quickly, snatching up the phone and straightened the seasoning shakers. "You met my – uh, husband? _Her_ husband, I mean," he added hastily, passing Tanya her phone.

"You're what?" Garrett asked EJ, wide eyed. "Why did you say 'my,' E_JJJ_?" he dragged out the 'J' and it made EJ bristle. "Is Edward Cullen anything of yours?"

"I meant husband," EJ repeated through gritted teeth, annoyance rolling off him in waves. Tanya and Kate exchanged confused glances. "I was just caught off guard because nobody gets to meet Edward Cullen," he continued, sending Garrett a dark look.

Garrett smirked. "And how do you know that?"

"I told you – I'm a fan," EJ stated flatly.

"He's right," Tanya chimed in, with a nod. "Nobody gets to meet Edward. Isabella is fairly closed off about her personal life. Although it was pretty great to meet him." She laughed, remembering. "When he showed up toward the last part of the interview, he claimed that he was bringing Isabella her favorite pen that she had left at home. But it was actually a cover so he could have a drink at the pub we were in because my magazine had an open tab at the bar."

Kate and Garrett laughed at this and EJ looked amused. "Yeah, that does sound like something he would do," he remarked dryly.

Garrett pounced on him. "Does it EJ? Does it really?"

EJ ignored him, as did Tanya. "People say Edward got better with age," she smiled dreamily and her eyes unfocused. "And I can see that_._ I would definitely put him in the DILF category."

EJ made a noise in his throat and it made Garrett laugh in a way that could only be described as a cackle.

"This is the best night ever!" Garrett declared, giggling.

"I don't get it…?" Tanya said slowly. EJ remained silent and took a large sip of his drink.

"Me neither," Kate agreed and moved Garrett's wineglass slowly away from him.

"So, anyway. EJ," Tanya turned to him, ignoring her brother in law's odd behavior. "How are you liking San Francisco so far? Have you been here before?"

"I've visited once. But that was –"

"Wait!" Garrett interjected and the three glanced at him. "Why did we change the subject? I thought we were talking about Isabella Swan?"

"We were," EJ said irritated. "And then that topic closed so we moved on to talk about something else. That's usually how a conversation works."

"I think we should keep discussing Isabella Swan," Garrett declared gleefully. "I like that topic. It's a very interesting topic."

"Um," Tanya said, feeling apprehensive, which she thought she'd never be when it came to Isabella Swan. Because between Garrett's oddly happy behavior and EJ's irritation every time Isabella Swan was brought up, Tanya was wholly confused by how this night was going.

"Tell us more about Isabella Swan, Tanya," Garrett said adamantly, placing his chin between his hands and leaning forward with interest.

Tanya straightened in her seat, ready to gush about her favorite person, but she caught EJ's gaze and it made her stop. He looked thoroughly annoyed and tense. If EJ was a fan of Isabella like he said he was – why did the mention of her frustrate him so much?

"The article will be published in next month's magazine, so you can just read about her in a few weeks, Garrett," Tanya told him. She noticed EJ visibly relax in his chair.

Kate frowned. "Since when do you _not_ talk about Isabella Swan? You love talking about her. Nobody can have a conversation with you that doesn't involve some sort of reference to her."

"Yes! Exactly," Garrett remarked with a firm nod. "And, fair enough – I'll wait until the magazine comes out to read about your interview. But!" he continued and EJ grimaced. "I distinctly remember you telling us that Isabella swan told you a rare story." He flourished his hand dramatically. "Tell us that story."

"Do you mean the story of how Isabella and Edward met?" Tanya asked.

"The story about her shaving his hair on TV?" EJ shrugged. "Everyone knows about that."

"No, Isabella told me the _whole _story," Tanya stated excitedly. "Right from the start - the blue hair, the panda hat; them being together in London; _plus_ some extra stuff included in the hair shaving part. It was so. Great," she gushed.

"Isabella told you all of that?" EJ regarded Tanya suspiciously. "She only ever tells the full story to people that she likes."

Garrett pounced on him. "And how is it that you know that EJ? Hmmm?"

"Any fan of Isabella's knows that," EJ shot back but he kept his gaze on Tanya.

"Do you really think that's why Isabella told me the full story?" Tanya questioned him, excitedly. "Because she likes me?"

"I don't know." EJ shrugged, glancing away from Tanya. "I guess so. Who knows?"

Tanya beamed widely and she crushed the cloth napkin she had in her hand. Kate laughed at this and bumped shoulders with her sister.

"You can't tell, but Tanya's trying really hard not to lose it right now," Kate declared teasingly, nodding to Tanya's hand.

"Shut up. I am not," Tanya replied with laugh, releasing the napkin and smoothing it out.

"She'll fan girl about it later when she goes back home," Kate told the guys.

"Stop," Tanya whined. "I'm not that big of a Isabella fan girl."

"You're not?" Kate prompted flatly. "So you _don't_ listen to the audio of your interview with Isabella on your way to work everyday? And then again on the way home?"

"Do you really do that?" EJ prompted Tanya, his eyebrows slightly raised in a judgmental gesture.

Tanya felt her cheeks heat up and she felt thoroughly embraced. She didn't usually hide her fangirling about Isabella from people, but now in front of EJ, she felt immature and silly.

"Maybe?" Tanya finally responded with a shrug. "I listen to the last part of the interview," she added. "When Isabella told me about her meeting Edward. It's a cute story and they were really cute while telling it."

"Isabella and Edward were cute," EJ said dubiously, eyebrows still raised.

"Why wouldn't they be cute?" Garrett piped up, directing his question at EJ. "Is there any reason why you would think _Isabella_ and _Edward_ wouldn't be cute, EJ?" he emphasized the names heavily, confusing Tanya and Kate again.

"No, Garrett," EJ said tightly. "No reason."

"They do seem sweet together," Kate mused. She shrugged. "You know, from the pictures I've seen of them."

"They were the cutest, sweetest couple ever," Tanya declared happily and started rambling unthinkingly. "Do you ever talk to someone and they're so cute and the conversation is so cute that you just feel all the cuteness? Like, you curl your toes and cover your face and make strange noises and have to lie down for a while because the cuteness is just so incredibly overwhelming?"

There was a moment of silence as Kate, Garrett and EJ stared blankly at Tanya before the three broke into laughter. Tanya cringed in her seat, feeling stupid again.

"I think it's safe to say that I've never made strange noises and had to lie down after hearing a story," EJ joked, still chuckling.

Tanya pushed away her embarrassment, straightening in her seat. "Well, I have," she remarked confidently. Just because she sitting opposite possibly the most handsome guy she's ever met, didn't mean he could let her feel stupid about her fan girl crush. "And in my opinion, Isabella and Edward were cute. The cutest."

"If you say so," EJ said, still amused as he took a sip of his drink.

"I think you should tell us the story," Garrett declared suddenly.

The humor on EJ's face vanished immediately. His glass plunked down on the table with force and he glared at Garrett. "What?"

Garrett shrugged casually. "I want to hear the full story of how Isabella and Edward met. "

"It's a long story," Tanya informed him. "There's three parts to it. We'll be here for awhile."

"So? We have time." Garrett waved his hand discreetly to the other end of the dinner table. "It's not like we can get up and leave. It'll be bad form if we leave before the big man does."

Tanya hesitated, glancing in EJ's direction. He was scowling and looking tense again. "I don't know…"

"Aw, come on," Garrett urged. "You listen to the story everyday! _Twice_ a day. So you know the story from front to back."

"Isn't the story going to be included in your magazine interview?" EJ asked Tanya. "Why don't we just wait until the issue comes out and then we can read all about it?"

"Actually, it's not," Tanya said. "The published interview focuses on her music career. Because Edward has nothing really to do with that, I didn't include the story of how they met in the article."

"Great! So you can tell us the story now." Garrett bounced in his seat. "Tell us – tell us – tell us!"

"If she doesn't want to tell the story, I don't think you should make her," EJ said to him and Garrett rolled his eyes.

"No, I definitely want to tell it," Tanya told him. "It's just…you seem sort of angry about Isabella for some reason. You said you were a fan." She shrugged. "So I don't understand the hatred towards her."

"It's not hatred," EJ assured her immediately. He shook his head, looking apprehensive. "It's just…"

Garrett smirked. "Just what, EJ?"

EJ ignored him and turned to Kate. "Do you want to hear the story, Kate? It's two for and one against. You can be the decider."

"Yes! Good idea," Garrett agreed. "And Kate, did I mention that you're looking particularly beautiful tonight? Especially with your hair up like that."

"Shut up, loser." Kate rolled her eyes, but it was in amusement. She shrugged. "I'll be honest – I kinda want to hear about the cuteness."

"I win!" Garrett said in triumph and glanced around the restaurant. "We'll need drink refills for this."

He flagged down a waiter and Tanya noticed EJ glance away from the table to stare out the window again. He did not look happy at all.

"I'm a good story teller," Tanya said, hoping to appease EJ's frustration. EJ glanced her, slightly confused and she continued. "Maybe Isabella and Edward's story will make you like her again."

EJ gave her a small smile, his annoyance diminishing some. "I meant it when I said that I'm a fan of Isabella's," he assured her. "And I don't hate her either. She's a hard person to hate. From what I hear," he added hastily.

"Yeah. She's pretty awesome," Tanya remarked happily just as a waiter appeared at Garrett's elbow with their drink refills. It took a minute for them to get back on topic as there had to be shifting around the table as dinner plates were removed and their drinks placed on the table.

"You can start now," Garrett told Tanya. "Start right from the beginning." he added and shot EJ a grin. "Be sure to be as detailed as possible and not to leave anything out."

Tanya exhaled, puffing out her cheeks as she thought for a moment on where to start. "Well, I guess the story of how Isabella and Edward met came up at the end of the interview…"

* * *

_**Interview #423 audio– Isabella Swan, Tanya Alexandrov, Edward Cullen**_

_**Tanya: **__"I think that just about wraps this up. On behalf of myself and the magazine, thank you so much for agreeing to do this interview."_

_**Isabella: **__"You're welcome. And I must say, this was really enjoyable. I liked your discussion questions very much."_

_**Tanya: **__"That's nice to hear. Thank you."_

_**Isabella: **__"And again, I do apologize for my husband showing up partway through the interview. He's just here to take advantage of the open tab your magazine has at the bar."_

_**Edward: **__"You forgot your favorite pen. I was just returning it back to you in case you needed it."_

_**Isabella: **__"Edward, we've known each other for thirty something years and in that time have you _ever_ heard me mention the fact that I have a favorite pen?"_

_**Edward: **__"Yes, you have mentioned it. Twice, from memory."_

_**Isabella: **__"Whose memory? I've never had a favorite pen. No one even uses pens anymore."_

_**Edward: **__"I must have confused you with another Isabella then."_

_**Isabella: **__"How many Isabella Swan's do you know?"_

_**Edward: **__"Three…no, four. I forgot about the Isabella Swan over in Bristol."_

_**Isabella: **__"Idiot."_

_**Tanya: **__"If you like, I can leave the tab open another hour for you."_

_**Isabella: **__"Oh, no. That wont is necessary."_

_**Edward: **__"I believe Tanya was asking me, not you. And yes, I would very much like that. But only if you stay and have a drink with us, Tanya."_

_**Tanya: **__"I don't know…I wouldn't want to intrude."_

_**Edward: **__"It's not intruding if I'm inviting you."_

_**Isabella: **__"I agree. Please stay."_

_**Tanya: **__"I guess I could stay for a little while." _

_**Edward: **__"Great! I'll order another round."_

_**Tanya:**__ "This is a great pub that you chose, by the way. I really love it."_

_**Isabella: **__"I love it too. Edward and I go way, way back with this pub."_

_**Tanya: **__"Oh, is this where you two had your first date?"_

_**Isabella (laughter): **__"No, no, our first date wasn't here. I can't even remember where we had our first date. Can you, Edward?"_

_**Edward: **__"Hmmm…I'm having some vague recollection of us eating at Red Lobster in Seattle. Or was that a dream I had the other night because I miss their butter sauce so much?"_

_**Isabella: **__"Red Lobster in Seattle sounds right. I think it was after the 'TV incident.'"_

_**Tanya: **__"TV incident? Do you mean the head shaving story?"_

_**Isabella: **__"Yes, that story. Do you already know it?"_

_**Tanya: **__"Oh yeah. It's a great story."_

_**Edward: **__"I hate that story."_

_**Isabella: **__"I love it."_

_**Edward: **__"Only because you enjoy describing to people how ridiculous I looked with no hair."_

_**Isabella: **__"I really do enjoy it. It's a lot more fun being asked this question if I'm being interviewed on TV – because then at least I get to show photos of how you looked."_

_**Edward: **__"I hate those photos."_

_**Isabella: **__"I love them."_

_**Tanya: **__"I think that story is really cute for how you two first met."_

_**Isabella: **__"There's more to the story than just the hair. Technically, that's not the first time we met each other."_

_**Tanya: **__"Really? There's more to the story? I would _love_ to hear the full story."_

_**Isabella: **__"You would?"_

_**Edward: **__"Our kids think it's the most boring story on the planet. They get up and leave the room whenever we start to tell it."_

_**Tanya:**__ Honestly – anything you do or say would not be boring to me. And I promise I won't get up and leave."_

_**Edward:**__ "Even if you tried, we wouldn't let you. You'd void the open tab at the bar by leaving."_

_**Isabella: **__"That's sweet of you to say that I'm not boring. And I guess...I could tell you the full story. If you're interested."_

_**Tanya: **__"I'm very interested."_

_**Edward: **__"Tell her the long version – our drinks aren't here yet."_

_**Isabella: **__"Personally, I see Edward and I 'first meeting' each other twice before the head shaving incident. The very first time I met Edward Cullen, it was in my hometown of Forks, Washington and we were both visiting home from out of town. I was eighteen, Edward was nineteen and he had blue hair and a panda hat__ on his head…"_

* * *

**Hi hi. **

**Long time no see. How are you? You look well. I like what you've done to your hair. It suits you :)**

**This fic is incredibly silly and stupid. If that isn't already obvious by the summary for this - it will be in upcoming chapters…**

**This will be broken up into three parts, plus an epilogue – around 12-14 chapters, depending on how I choose to split them.**

**Did you know that 'souplover9' is New Zealand slang for 'most awesome beta in the universe'? (It's not. But it should be)**

**Special thanks to Jacqui for reading over this. She's the loveliest!**

**Thanks for reading.**

_Will xoxo_


	2. The First Time - Chapter 1

**Edward: 19; Bella: 18**

**Year: 2012**

=\\\=

I rolled over and blinked once, and then again. They were stinging and puffy from the amount of crying I had been doing during the night. I'm trying to focus on what's sitting on the bedside table. There was a bottle of water, a glass of juice, a banana and a muffin. Sue probably put it there while I was asleep.

I stared at the muffin, trying to figure out what kind it was – it looked like poppy seed (yesterday was blueberry)– when I heard the sound of a car pulling into the street. I remained still, listening to see if it was someone in this driveway. A car door opened and closed and it sounded like it came from across the street.

There's a sudden shriek that startled me and for a split second, I was worried that something bad had happened. But then laughter filled the air and I relaxed, hearing some voices that seem to be talking calmly. I can't hear what they were saying; it was muffled against the closed window of the room.

My phone beeped and I buried my face in my pillow, ignoring it until it rung out. When it finally did, I glanced at the screen.

Ten missed calls: four from Angela and six from Ben.

All the pain and heartbreak came rushing back and I dug my nails into my palms to stop the tears. They were a seriously annoying development.

I shoved my phone away and looked at the tray of food again. Feeling a stab of annoyance, I reached out and knocked the muffin off the tray.

"Sorry," I muttered, staring at the sad little muffin on the floor. "It's not you, it's me."

Glancing at the time, I saw that it was three in the afternoon. I got out of the toasty warm bed and changed from my PJ pants into sweat pants in case someone was home. I picked up the muffin from the floor and placed it back on the tray before heading for the bathroom.

When finished, I headed downstairs into the kitchen. Sue's sons were there and they stared at me as I entered. I stared back because I had been here for about three days now and we had hardly seen or spoken each other. Heck, I'd hardly spoken to anybody since I'd arrived.

"You're awake," Seth declared. He was sitting at the small dining table eating a sandwich. Both boys look the same - tanned skin, dark hair and dark eyes, very tall for their ages—Seth is the youngest, fourteen years old, while Sam is sixteen.

"Yeah. Hey," I greeted, giving them an awkward wave.

"Did we wake you up?" Sam asked coldly, narrowing his eyes at me. He was leaning against the kitchen island, eating a pudding cup. I was taken aback by his tone of voice. What was his problem?

"No. I was already awake. You guys are very quiet," I admitted, walking past him to the fridge.

"We're supposed to be quiet," Seth, said. I regarded the contents of the fridge and I could feel them watching me. "Mom told us to be."

"_Don't wake Isabella. She needs her rest_," Sam said in a mocking voice. I rolled my eyes at his tone as I grabbed a pudding cup from the fridge. "Why do you need so much rest anyway?" he asked, glaring at me.

"I just do," I shot back childishly. He huffed in response and I ignored him, digging into my pudding. I guessed Sam was in his 'I'm better than you and I hate everyone and everything sucks' phase that most teenage boys go through.

"Where are the parents, Seth?" I asked him, realizing no one else was home.

"Mom goes grocery shopping with dad on Wednesday afternoons," Seth answered. I softened at his words. It was kind of cute that he referred to Charlie as dad, and also that Charlie and Sue go grocery shopping together.

"Are you looking for food?" Sam asked me. I've opened up the kitchen pantry, looking at the contents while I eat my pudding. "Because mom already left a tray in your room before she left."

"I know she did. I just feel like something sweet," I told him. There's a lot of baking things in here. "Sue bakes a lot, huh?"

"She makes a lot of muffins," Seth answered.

I decided on a chocolate cake mix from the pantry. "I think I'm gonna make a cake."

"Just for yourself?" Sam questioned with a scoff.

"No. I'm aware of the concept of sharing," I answered dryly, not looking at him and started reading the instructions on the back of the cake box.

Seth let out a quiet laugh and I smiled at him, feeling…well, not happy. But good. "You wanna help?" I asked Seth, moving back to the fridge to take out the eggs.

"Okay." Seth got up and moved to the sink to wash his plate and his hands. "Mom has a recipe for fudge frosting made from scratch. I can make that?"

"Um. Hell yeah, you can make that," I said seriously.

Seth and I started to take out things we need to make the cake, when out of nowhere, Sam said: "You were playing your guitar yesterday."

"What?" I was moving the heavy KitchenAid to the front counter. When I sat it down, I was huffing out a breath.

Sam scowled at me. "Guitar. I heard you playing your guitar yesterday."

Yesterday afternoon, I was messing around on my guitar, playing anything that came to me as a distraction from things. I plugged in the KitchenAid and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"And you were singing too," Seth chimed in, pouring some milk into a measuring cup. "Your voice is really nice."

"You've heard me sing before," I pointed out. It was at Charlie and Sue's wedding two years go. I haven't been back here since.

Seth shrugged. "I know. I had forgotten though. And I can see why you're going to be famous."

"Maybe famous. We'll see," I remarked with a laugh. "Thanks, though."

"Dad told us about London. It's so cool that you get to live in England for a year." Seth chatted happily. My smile, along with my good mood, vanished. "Are you excited?"

Thinking about London brought on another wave of sadness. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yeah. I guess I'm excited," I answered quietly, concentrating on pouring the cake mix into the mixer.

"Aren't you worried about being alone though?" Sam said, moving to the kitchen sink. He purposely bumped into Seth on the way, who was measuring some chocolate, causing it to spill on the counter. Seth glared at Sam's back. "Charlie can't come with you. Neither can your mom. And your boyfriend just broke up with you. I mean, you'll basically have no one and be all by yourself in a foreign country," he declared with a shrug.

I gave this kid my best death stare. "Actually, no, I'm not worried. Because there's this thing people can do – it's called 'making new friends'." I looked at him in mock sympathy. "I don't think you would know anything about that seeing as you probably don't have any friends to begin with."

"It's true, he doesn't," Seth told me, grinning. "Not unless you count his right hand."

I laughed and Sam looked murderous. "Shut up, dickface," he snapped at Seth.

Seth ignored him and said, "they're home."

I listened closely but couldn't hear anything. But then I heard the sound of a car pull into the driveway and the whirr of the garage being opened. "Wow. Good ear, Seth." I told him, impressed and he shrugged in response.

I was a little nervous about meeting Sue. Other than leaving the occasional tray of food and putting together a plate of whatever they've had for dinner that she leaves in the fridge for me, it would technically be the first time I'd seen Sue since I'd gotten here. When Charlie brought me home from the airport, I went straight to the guest room and closed the door behind me.

Sue walked in carrying two canvas grocery bags and smiled warmly at us. "Hello boys. Hi Isabella," she greeted me, setting the bags down on the dining table.

I relaxed a little. "Hi," I replied, returning her smile.

"You guys are cooking?" Sue questioned, eyeing all the ingredients we had out.

"I felt like cake, so we're making a chocolate one," I answered and then added awkwardly, "I hope that's okay?"

"Chocolate cake is always okay," she said with an amused smile.

Charlie walked into the kitchen then, carrying grocery bags as well, and saw me standing there. "She lives!" he declared, setting the bags down. He gave me a sideways hug that was a little strong and I stumbled a bit. "I was starting to think a mouse was eating all my food," he teased. When I would come downstairs to eat my dinner – after everyone had gone to bed – I also munched on other things I found in the fridge. It wasn't my fault though, Sue's a really good cook.

"Hi dad," I said dryly, rolling my eyes and he grinned at me before going back out to the car. Charlie's not so bad. He's kind of lame, but he's nice.

"I'm out," Sam declared, as he started to follow Charlie out the door. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

"No. You'll stay until dinner," Sue told him, giving him a look. "I need some potatoes peeled."

"So?" Sam said in a bored tone. He jerked his chin at Seth. "Get Seth to do it."

"I'm asking you," Sue remarked coolly. "I need six potatoes. The biggest one's in the pantry."

Sam trudged with a scowl to the pantry and Charlie walked back in with more grocery bags.

"Cullen's boy is home for the break," he declared to us. Or rather, to everyone in the kitchen but me, because I had no idea who Cullen, or his boy, was. "I just saw him out in their yard. He says 'hi.'"

Sue nodded in response, pulling out a colander from under the sink. "Esme was telling me over the weekend. She and Alice are very excited to have him home."

"He's wearing some sort of animal hat," Charlie declared with a frown, taking out items from the grocery bags. "Couldn't tell what kind from over here. I always thought he was a bit 'special.'"

Sue tsked at him. "He's a nice boy. Plus, he's given you lots of good advice on the garden."

"That's true," Charlie mused.

I interjected into their conversation, still working on the cake. "Dad, can you hand me a spoon?"

Charlie handed me my spoon and hovered next to me at the sink while I measured out some water. "Feeling okay today, kiddo?" Charlie asked, his voice low as Sue talked with her sons.

I shrugged and poured the water into the KitchenAid bowl. I placed my hand on its controls, ready to switch it on. "I know that I'll feel better after I have some of this cake."

Charlie patted my shoulder. "You'll get there."

=\\\=

The next morning, I woke up without my usual alarm of tears pooled and cooled in my ears. Apparently some sort of floodgate had opened or something, and they just keep coming. Even while I slept.

But this morning was different. I touched my cheek and found it dry. Taking this as a good sign, I decided to get out of bed before midday. Going downstairs, I walked past the living room and saw Seth watching morning TV. He's had a tall glass of orange juice that he was drinking through a red swirly straw.

"Nice straw," I said, and moved to sit next to him on the couch. "Pretty sure I had one of those as a kid."

"You did. This is yours," Seth told me, lifting up the straw in the glass. "I found it stashed in some drawer about a month ago."

"That's cool. Just use my swirly straw without my permission," I said in mock casualness. "It's not like I care. Because I don't. Even though swirly straws are really awesome. But whatever. It's just a straw."

"You're funny," Seth stated, grinning into his straw. My straw.

"Hey, Seth!" Charlie called from upstairs. He talked and came downstairs at the same time. "When Isabella wakes up, can you tell her to call me?" he stopped in the doorway and stared at Seth and I sitting on the couch. "Or I can just talk to her right now. Good morning."

"Morning," I echoed. Seth vaguely waved in his direction, eyes still on the TV.

"You feel like venturing out into the big, wide world today?" Charlie asked me, fiddling with the buttons on the bottom of his shirt. He was dressed in his police uniform, ready for work.

I shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"I need you to drive up to Port Angeles and pick up a few things for me from the garden center," Charlie pulled out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. "Gotta put these flowers in before it gets too late in the season and winter starts."

I stared at Charlie and he gave me a look. "What? Your old man isn't allowed to garden?"

I shook my head. "No. My old man, the Chief of Police, can do all the gardening he wants."

Charlie ignored my comment and took out a box of toothpicks from his shirt pocket. He removed one and placed it between his teeth. "I'm giving you the Chevy to drive up there," he said, without losing grip on the toothpick. "You'll need the trunk space. I think Sam's still sleeping but Seth can go with you, show you the way. Or I could wake Sam up and –"

"No," I said immediately and then added, "I mean, I'll go with Seth. Let Sam get his beauty sleep. With a face like his, he needs lots of it."

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. He moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other without touching it.

"You still do that," I said to Charlie, a little surprised.

"Do what?" Charlie asked distractedly, putting on his cop jacket.

"The toothpick thing."

Charlie paused for a moment, before comprehension dawned on him. "Oh, right." He nodded, taking the toothpick out. "You loved that move as a kid. Thought I was doing magic."

I laughed, remembering. "I used to pretend you had one of those mining dwarfs from that Disney movie in your mouth, moving the toothpick from one end to the other."

"Dwarfs that mine are freaky," Seth piped up randomly, still watching TV.

"Yeah they are, kid," Charlie remarked and then picked up his car keys. "I'm leaving for work. And Isabella – you should probably go before lunch to beat the truck traffic that comes from the logging mill up there."

"Okay, dad," I said to him, eyes on the TV screen.

"And my order is already paid for, but if the staff question it and if there's any issues – tell them to call me and I'll deal with it."

"Got it, dad."

"The tank should be full and can get you there and back, so don't worry about having to gas up."

"No problem, dad."

"And there's no need to speed, Isabella. If you get done for speeding or any other reckless driving, I'm not getting you out of any tickets and you pay for any fines yourself."

"No speeding. Got it, dad."

"And Isabella?" Charlie said pointedly and it's clear from his tone that he wanted me to look at him.

I held back a sigh and turned around on the couch to look at him, resting my arm on the back. "Yes dad?"

He stood with the front door open and said, "You should smile more. It looks good on you." and then left.

=\\\=

"This thing went as fast as a snail the last time I drove it – now it goes as fast as a…as a…what's that animal that runs really fast? The one with the spots."

"Um." Seth's face screwed up in thought as I pulled to a stop at a red light. "A cheetah?"

"Yes, a cheetah." I braced myself as the light turned green and lightly tapped the gas. It's not light enough though and the truck jerked, both Seth and me pulled forward against our seatbelts. "I'm sitting behind the wheel of a cheetah."

Seth snorted, changing the radio station. "Dad got the engine modified last year when Mom complained about it being so slow. She loves it now. I'm surprised she told Dad that you could drive it. The cheetah is like, her third child."

"Sue the Speed Demon. Cool."

The last time I drove the truck, when I was here for Sue and Charlie's wedding, I couldn't get it past fifty five – now I'm too afraid to take it over fifty five. I underestimated how sensitive the pedals were backing out of the garage earlier and shot out onto the driveway way too fast. The first ten minutes of the drive were a bit tricky – but now after forty minutes, I'm getting the hang of it. Sort of.

"Take the next left," Seth directed. He kept directing me until we get to the garden center and I pulled into their parking lot.

We jumped out of the truck and head to the counter to sort out Charlie's order. The worker brought out a trolley piled high with all sorts of plants and flowers and small hedge type plants and we lead him back to the truck. He started loading the plants into the cab and Seth announced that he was getting a drink from across the street and wandered off.

I couldn't exactly wander off either but the guy doing the loading was listening to Incubus at full volume on his iPod, so conversation with him was useless. There was some sort of archway that led to an open space off to the side of the truck. I walked through, making sure to keep an eye on the Cheetah, and nearly impaled myself. A giant angel with massive marble wings took up most of the space.

It stared at me forbiddingly, as I edged around the wings, looking at all the flowers. It was all very…enthusiastic. Enthusiastically pink. There were roses on the far wall that looked like they were trying to escape by climbing the wall.

"Can I help you?"

I jumped and looked around. As far as I could tell, I was alone in this very pink space.

"Over here."

I turned slowly and looked at the angel. It was definitely glaring at me. But it also definitely looked like it's made of marble. I looked around to make sure I'm alone and then leaned toward it.

"Are you talking to me?" I whispered.

There's a low laugh and I suddenly realized it was coming from above the angel. I looked up. I stood on my tiptoes and then the glaring marble angel head _came off_ and a guy appeared over its neck.

I gave this guy one look and laughed. Not loudly. It's more of an amused huff or a surprised giggle. Still, it's not really nice to laugh in someone's face.

It was his hat. He was wearing a panda hat. A hat…in the shape of a panda.

The guy didn't seem to take offense to my rudeness. His mouth tilted to the left in a smile. "Do you need help with anything?"

My eyes kept going from the hat to his face. The hat was the woolen kind, black and white with black buttons for the eyes and the smile with mini black pom poms for ears –the type a five-year old kid would wear. But the one he wore was bigger, covering his whole head, including his hair. I couldn't even see what color it was. The hat was obviously for a girl, probably from the tween section of a Target or something.

The hat was actually kind of cute. If I were into wearing woolen hats, lived in someplace where it got super cold, or saw it in a Target – I'd wear it.

"Um, hi," I finally said to him.

"Hi," Panda Hat Guy echoed. He set the angry angel head at his feet and walked around it. He was tall and wore jeans, a blue hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. The guy was cute – really cute – but his silly hat was distracting. "I didn't mean to scare you," he continued. "I just saw you looking around and thought I'd ask if you needed help with anything."

"Do you even work here?" I asked uncertainly. He wasn't wearing the uniform that I had seen on the other workers here.

"No," he answered with a shrug. "But I can still answer any questions you have."

Why is there a panda on your head?

"Nope. No questions," I told him instead, shaking my head. He nodded in response and the panda's little pom pom ears shake. I looked around me again, trying to keep a straight face. "It's pretty in here."

"Really?"

"No," I said honestly with an apologetic grimace but the guy laughed. "I'm not really a fan of pink…don't tell my gender I told you that," I joked and then immediately felt stupid. That sounded like something Charlie would say.

The guy's smile widened. "I won't tell your gender that you don't like pink if you don't tell _my_ gender that there are six different kinds of pink roses in here." He motioned to the pink flowers around us. "And I know the names of all six."

"Six kinds of pink?" I repeated in awe. "Seriously?"

He didn't hesitate. "Deptford pink, Cheddar pink, Cottage pink, Bath's pink, China pink and Hot Maiden pink."

I laughed. "I don't know if those are real names or if you just made them up," I said, amused. "But you should probably get some sort of medal for listing off those off. Or listing that many random words off the top of your head."

"I didn't make them up," he deadpanned. "But I will gladly accept a medal if it's in the form of a man card. Because I'm pretty sure I've lost mine."

I started to say something about his panda hat and lost man card when Seth appeared.

"Hey. You're back," I said to him. He had bought a can of Fanta and was drinking it through a bendy straw.

"Yup." Seth took a noisy sip and then acknowledged Panda Hat Guy. "Hey, Edward. Cool hat."

Edward. I will forever associate all pandas with the name 'Edward'. "Seth?" Edward stared at him. Seth held out his hand and they did that handshake and slap thing guys do. "You gotta stop growing, dude. How old are you now?"

"Fourteen," Seth answered.

Edward shook his head. "I'm going to pretend that you said 'eleven.' It'll make me feel less old. How's your brother?" he asked with a smirk. "Still a shithead?"

"Yes," both Seth and me answered in unison. Edward glanced at me, amused and I shrugged. Sam was a shithead.

Seth tilted his Fanta toward me. "You met Isabella? Charlie's daughter from Arizona," he added before I could say anything.

"Ahh." Edward smiled at me in realization. "The famous singer."

"I'm not famous," I shrugged, feeling sheepish. "Did Charlie put a notice out in the 'Forks Times' or something?" I asked Seth warily.

Seth nodded. "Pretty much. My mom's been telling people too." I sighed. Great. "We should probably go," Seth said to me, glancing at the cheetah Chevy. "Dad will kill us if we destroyed his plants before he even saw them."

"Good idea," Edward stated, nodding. "Midday sunlight is too strong for those plants. I should go too." he glanced around him. "I only came in here for the Gabriel."

"That's not a very clever name for an angel," I said to him.

"What? Oh. No, not him," Edward jabbed a thumb to the headless angel. "That's Alan. This–" he walked over to a deep pink rose bush sitting in a very wide, heavy looking plastic plant pot, "is Gabriel." Impressively, he picked the rose bush up with a slight groan, shifting its weight.

"Catch you later, Edward," Seth said and walked away toward the truck. Edward grunted in response, taking a wobbly step back.

I could just see the black pom pom ears above the leaves and Edward's face popped around the leaves. "I'll see you around, Bella," he grinned at me before walking off, slightly off balance from the weight of holding the plant.

"Bye," I called after him. I followed after Seth, but kept my gaze on the panda hat, bobbing and weaving through the garden center. "Bella," I said to myself, testing it out. That was new. I liked it.

* * *

**Thank you marvelous, wonderful, amazing people who reviewed and alerted this. **

**And thanks for reading. Especially for reading.**

_Will xoxo_


	3. The First Time - Chapter 2

I knocked on the front door of the Cullen's house and waited, feeling awkward. Actually, a lot awkward.

It was early in the evening, two days after the garden center, and I had just finished dinner with Sue and Charlie about an hour ago. We had an early dinner because Charlie had to be at the station. It was just the three of us, Seth and Sam staying over at their father's.

I was on drying duty while Sue did the dishes and I came across a casserole dish with the name 'Esme Cullen' written on it. Sue told me she and Charlie had gone over for dinner to the Cullen's the night before I came and Esme had given them leftovers in her dish. This was a new tradition, as the Cullen's moved in after my time here in Forks, two months after Sue and my dad got married.

Sue asked me if I could do her a favor and return the dish. I said yes, not expecting her to mean that she wanted the dish returned right away. Hence, why I was standing at the front door of the Cullen's house.

The door swung open and a girl stood in the doorway. She blinked and then grinned enthusiastically at me. "Hi!"

"Hi," I echoed. She looked to be a few years younger than me, maybe fifteen or sixteen, all cheekbones and braces. "I'm Isabella from across the street." I pointed to Charlie's house behind me and then held up the casserole dish. "Sue wanted to me to return this to Esme."

"Okay. My mom, that's Esme, isn't home right now, but I'll let her know she has it back," she said, and took the casserole dish from me. I turned to say goodbye and leave, when she stood to the side. "I'm Alice, by the way. Do you want to come in?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." I stepped inside and Alice shut the door behind me.

"Gimme a sec. I'll just put this dish away," Alice told me and then disappeared for a moment but then leaned around the wall again. "Wait – Isabella?" she stared at me with wide eyes. "Charlie's daughter, Isabella? The famous singer?"

"Uh, yes to Charlie's daughter. No to famous singer," I replied, wary. I should really say something about that to Charlie.

"Cool!" Alice exclaimed happily. She disappeared again but then popped back into the room not three seconds later. "Charlie talks about you all the time. He's real proud of you and the whole record deal, London thing. Did you just get here? I haven't seen you around town."

"I've been here a couple of days," I told her and shrugged. "I haven't really gone anywhere yet."

"Do you want to go out now?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Now?"

Alice nodded, longer than necessary. "I have to walk my neighbors dog for half an hour morning and then again afternoon. Plus, I'm kinda bored and need to get out of here." She waved her hand around her, indicating the house. "I've been working on my math homework. I'm such a dork for doing it in the holidays."

"Not a dork," I assured her. "Just really bored. I've been there."

She beamed at me, and I noticed all the hot pink in her braces. "Cool. So, you'll come for a walk?"

"Sure. I'll come," I said. I hadn't planned on doing much tonight anyway; maybe work on some writing, but that could wait.

I told her that I'd be back in five minutes, so I could tell Sue where I was going. Alice and I met up at the front of her house and Alice started to chatter away about her neighbor. How he was in the navy and had to disappear for weeks, sometimes months on missions that he couldn't publicly talk about. We walked through her neighbor's side gate and a huge bear like animal scrambled to its feet, followed by a barking explosion. It was the huge, booming kind of bark that only came from something the size of a pony, which this thing was.

I stopped in my tracks and stared. "I think a bear ate your neighbors dog."

Alice giggled. "That's Pumpernickel."

"Pumpernickel?" We made our way toward the dog – Alice happily, me cautiously. "What kind of name is that for this dog? Shouldn't it have a proper name like, Chomper, Thrasher, or Holy Shit, I'm a Huge-Ass Dog?"

"He's not that big," Alice insisted.

"Children could ride him at a fair," I remarked in awe, still staring at Pumpernickel. Alice stood next to him while I stood a safe distance away. "How do you walk him and not get your arm ripped off? He's huge."

"Pumpernickel's a good dog. He doesn't make a fuss. Do you, boy?" she asked Pumpernickel, stooping down to rub his head. Pumpernickel woofed in response and licked her cheek.

"Oh my God." I cringed. "He nearly ate your face."

Alice chuckled and unclipped Pumpernickel from his chain linked to what looked like a toolshed – but on closer inspection it was just Pumpernickel's kennel – and put a leash on him. Pumpernickel stood up, bounding toward me and I swear to God, the ground shook. I jerked, taking a step back and he sniffed my hand. I brought my hands up to my chest, grimacing at the feel of his hot breath against me.

"He likes you!" Alice declared gleefully as Pumpernickel sat at my feet and stared up at me, his gigantic tongue lolling out of his mouth. "I think he wants you to pat him," she added.

"No thanks. I'd rather not have my hand bitten off."

"You're funny." Alice giggled and wrapped the leash once around her hand before leading Pumpernickel out the side gate. We stepped onto the street, set a good pace, with Pumpernickel stopping occasionally to smell a fence or pee on tree or lamppost.

"So when do you leave for London?" Alice asked conversationally. She steered Pumpernickel to the right and we walked off of our street.

"Not till summer starts. Mid august," I told her.

"I've always wanted to go to England," Alice mused wistfully. "We have family that live in London. They send the prettiest Christmas cards every year."

"You should go one day," I said to her. "You'd like it there."

Alice nodded in response and then suddenly asked, "is it true you just recorded yourself singing a song that you wrote yourself and then sent it to a London record company?" she questioned with wide eyes and then added quickly, "Charlie told us that."

"I didn't send it directly to them," I corrected, fiddling with my watch. Telling this story always made me feel self-conscious. "But in basic terms, that's what happened. At the beginning of the year, I started sending out demos to record companies." I shrugged, watching Pumpernickel bark at a car driving past us. "I didn't think anything would actually come of it. It was more of a 'what's the harm in trying?' thing. Then, one guy from a music magazine heard it, sent it to his buddy who was a music producer in London. He liked what he heard and offered to fly me out there so they could hear some more of my work. I flew to London with my mom, sang for them and they offered me a record deal the next morning."

"Wow," Alice breathed, looking impressed. Then she grinned. "WOW."

I laughed and tugged at the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The sun was setting and it was getting a little breezy. "Yeah. It hasn't really sunk in yet."

Alice nodded and waved at some people across the street. "What instruments do you play? Other than piano and guitar," she acknowledged.

"Just those two," I answered. A thought occurred to me. "How did you know I play piano and guitar?"

"Charlie said so," Alice said casually and I sighed. She lightly tugged on Pumpernickel's leash when he stopped too long to sniff the base of a lamppost. "He also said you wrote your own songs. What kinda stuff do you write about?

"All kinds of things. Happy things, sad things, random things. I once wrote a song about Wednesdays." She laughed and quietly, I added, "but it's mostly sad, mopey songs these days because my boyfriend and I split up."

Alice made a sympathetic sound. "Sorry. That must suck."

"Thanks. I've been getting a lot of writing material out of it lately though," I noted wryly. "I hadn't realized, but there's a lot of words that rhyme with: jerk, bastard, and you're an asshole and I hope your tiny prick falls off from the STDs your new whore gives you."

Alice let out a loud burst of laughter and Pumpernickel, joined in, letting out a low woof too. "Tiny prick," she repeated with a giggle and I chuckled too. Maybe 'whore' was a tad strong of a word to describe Angela. Whatever, I was a woman scorned.

"I don't like boys either," Alice informed me. "I mean, I like them," she emphasized, rolling her hand in the air. "You know, the cute ones. But they can be so annoying. And stupid. God, boys are so stupid."

"Very stupid," I agreed vehemently. We took a left and made our way down a street that had a library and a diner on one side and a park with half pipe on the other. The half pipe was filled with guys of all ages, ranging from ten year olds to late teens. In the distance, I spied a teen with familiar fuzzy pom pom ears.

"Hey!" Alice said suddenly. She pointed to the diner. "You want a frozen coke?"

I stared at her. "Its like, 50 degrees."

"Try 60," Alice retorted teasingly. "Anything over 50 around here is good frozen coke weather."

We stopped a few feet before the skate park and while Alice fiddled with Pumpernickel's leash, I glanced over at the half pipe. Edward had his head down, moving a skateboard back and forth with his foot. He was standing with two other guys. One nudged him to get his attention and then nodded in Alice and my direction. Edward looked around his friend and waved. I waved back and mouthed "hi."

"I'll be two minutes," Alice said and then pressed something in my hand before moving to cross the street.

She had given me Pumpernickel's leash. "Wait," I called out in panic, but she was already on the other side.

"Two minutes," Alice called over her shoulder. I grimaced and glanced down at Pumpernickel. We stared at each other.

"Um…sit?" I commanded awkwardly. I had no experience with dogs. Not that I was convinced Pumpernickel was an actual dog.

Pumpernickel heeded my command and sat, still staring at me, expectant.

"Good boy," I said and gave his ear a quick pat, which was more of a poke, before pulling my hand back hastily in case he bit off my fingers.

I glanced up to see Edward watching us. He noticed me watching, hopped on his skateboard and rode the curb rail, coming to a stop in front of Pumpernickel and me.

"Hey," Edward greeted, a huge smile on his face. It made him even better looking and also made my heart do a weird little beat. Why on earth was he so happy to see me?

"Hi," I replied, trying not to blush. In a Tony Hawk like move, Edward kicked his board into a spin. Which would have looked super slick if he'd caught it with his hand instead of his chin.

"So, that hurt."

"Ouch," I agreed sympathetically. Edward dropped into a crouch, petting Pumpernickel but I still saw the two pink spots on his cheeks.

"Out dog walking with Alice?" he asked, scratching Pumpernickel behind the ears. The dog closed his eyes, his tongue lolling out. Gross.

"That's not a dog, it's a bear," I corrected him. "Or Bigfoot that likes to walk on all fours with a leash."

"Kinky Bigfoot," Edward commented. I tried to see if I could catch a glance at what color his hair was. I couldn't though, with it hidden underneath the knitted panda.

"I like your hat," I said. His amusement changed to skepticism. "I do," I added insistently, seeing his face. "Where did you get it?"

"It was given to me."

"As a gift?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

I regarded him curiously. "Is the hat like…a charity thing for a panda foundation?"

"Nope."

"So, you just really like pandas?"

"Love 'em."

I frowned. Edward's tone was clipped, his face a polite mask but there was a sense of irritation rolling off him, like he had been asked these questions many times before. Added with the abrupt answers, it was obvious that he didn't like the hat. Which was weird – if he hated the hat so much, why did he keep wearing the stupid thing?

Two guys rolled up on their skateboards and I recognized them as the two who were standing with Edward when Alice and I got here.

"Hey," one greeted, standing next to Edward. The other guy circled around us on his board. Pumpernickel followed him with his eyes, his head going round and round. "Going to the store. You want a soda?" he asked Edward.

"No." Edward frowned at him. "And you just asked me that two minutes ago."

"Just checking." The guy turned to me, and smiled. "Hey. I'm Jasper."

"Hi, Jasper," I replied. He was cute in that skater guy, Vans wearing, wallet on a chain hanging from his jeans, kind of way. "I'm Isabella."

"Isabella Swan. As in, Chief Swan's daughter," Edward added and he and Jasper exchanged one of those 'guy' looks. Jasper's easy grin immediately dropped and he sighed.

"Is that a problem?" I prompted. It was my turn to be annoyed now.

Edward grinned and put his arm around Jasper's shoulders. "Whitlock here used to be your dad's number one fan," he told me brightly, shaking Jasper, who shoved him away.

I nodded in comprehension. "I see."

"He still is," Jasper muttered dryly. He shrugged at me. "I can't even have a bad thought without him popping up out of nowhere. The guy's like a ninja. With a mustache."

"I'll make sure to tell my mustached, ninja dad that you said hi," I teased and Jasper grimaced in response.

"Peter," Edward directed to the other guy, who was still skating in circles around us. "Can you quit it? You're making Pumpernickel dizzy."

The other guy, Peter, rolled to a stop and tilted his head at me. "Isabella Swan, the famous singer?"

I frowned. "My mustached ninja of a dad is such a gossiper." The boys laughed. "And I'm not famous," I corrected. "I just sing."

"Cool. Sing something for us now," Jasper demanded. I was about to retort, when Edward stepped in.

"Sing something now?" Edward repeated with a scoff, shoving Jasper. "Dude, you ever heard of this thing called 'manners'?"

"I'm the perfect gentlemen with perfect manners," Jasper retorted, shoving Edward back. He smirked and winked at him. "Just ask your mom."

"Gross!" We looked to see Alice, who had returned, frozen Coke in hand. She glared at Jasper. "I did not need to hear that. God, Jasper, you're so disgusting."

Jasper glanced around him. "Did you hear something, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. "Nah. I didn't hear anything."

"Yes," Alice emphasized heavily, waving her hand at Jasper, "that was me."

"Oh hey, Small Fry," Jasper said, acknowledging Alice in mock surprise, as did Peter. "I didn't see you down there."

"Hilarious," Alice snapped at him. Peter laughed and Edward continued to pet Pumpernickel, but I could see he looked amused. "A short joke. Very original." She turned to me. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," I replied, amused also, which I was surprised about. I think this was the best I'd felt in days.

"Wait! Alice," Jasper said suddenly, looking concerned. "You've got something on your shirt."

"What?" Alice glanced down at her hoodie and frowned. "Where? I don't see anything."

"Right here –" Jasper leaned forward, a finger aimed at Alice's chest and then flicked his finger up at the last minute, catching Alice on the nose.

"Ugh!" Alice shoved Jasper's arm away from her, he and Peter laughing. "You a such a loser!" she exclaimed angrily and Pumpernickel barked along with her.

I caught Edward's eye and he gave me small shake of his head, in a 'that was lame' fashion. And it was kinda lame, but a little funny too.

"C'mon, Isabella." Alice wrapped Pumpernickel's leash around her hand and stalked off.

"Bye, Isabella," Jasper and Peter said together. They jumped on their skateboards and rode after Alice.

Edward smiled briefly at me. "See you at the bonfire tomorrow, Bella."

"Yeah, see you," I said automatically. He dropped his board to the ground, riding away. I realized what he just said. Bonfire? What bonfire?

I walked toward Alice, watching Edward smack Jasper at the back of the head, who, with Peter, were circling around Alice and annoying her. Edward said something and the three rode away, back to the half pipe.

Alice huffed, looking significantly ruffled when I reached her. "Stupid boys," she muttered, shooting a dark glare over her shoulder as we made our way home. "Have you met my brother before?" she questioned.

"Jasper? No, never."

"Not that stupid idiot," She said, making a face. "Edward."

"Ohh," I stated in realization. I shook my head. "Not really. I was at the garden center up in Port Angeles with Seth and we started talking."

Alice scrunched her nose up. "Did you get stuck listening to Edward rant about plants? He does that a lot."

"Plant rants?" I repeated. "No. We just talked." Alice nodded in response and I asked curiously, "what's the story with that panda hat?"

"Dunno." Alice shrugged. "I guess it's because Edward's weird? And the panda hat is weird, so the two fit."

"Hmm," I mused and then remembered what Edward said. "Hey, is there a bonfire or something happening around here?"

"Yes!" Alice answered enthusiastically and tugged impatiently on Pumpernickel's leash. He was dawdling. I think he knew we were headed home and was trying to take as much time as possible getting back. "They have a football game this time of the year between the Port Angeles high school team and the Forks team," she explained. "There's a bonfire at First Beach the night before that the students from both high schools go to. It's tomorrow night."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Are you gonna go?" Alice prompted. "Because you should! They're pretty fun."

I hesitated. "Are you going?"

"Yup!" Alice answered and then she shrugged. "Well, for a little while. Maybe for an hour or two. We can go together if you want," she added.

An hour or two? I could deal with that. "Yeah, okay," I told her. "I'll go."

"Great!" she said, tugging on Pumpernickel's leash. He had stopped to smell the fence along side us. "Edward's going too and I'm getting a ride with him so you can come with us." Alice gritted her teeth, and dug her feet into the pavement, trying to force the beast to keep walking.

"Thanks. I think I might do that," I replied, just as a loud burst of groans and jeers came from the half pipe behind us. It sounded as if someone crashed and burned.

"Edward, man – why are you showing off?" a teasing voice carried over to us. Because of Pumpernickel, we had only walked a few feet so we could still hear the sounds coming from the half pipe. The voice was purposely loud and sounded a lot like Jasper. "She's walking away from you. She can't see your moves. And since when are you into brunettes anyway?"

"Stupid," Alice muttered again under her breath, as Pumpernickel finally continued forward. I'm pretty sure she was talking about the guys behind us though.

"Yeah," I agreed smiling.

=\\\=

At eight o'clock the next night, the night of the bonfire, the doorbell of the house rang and I wasn't ready.

"That's mine!" I yelled from my bedroom to the rest of the house. I hadn't done my hair and there was no time to do anything except put it up into a ponytail. I grabbed my shoes, wallet and phone and then rushed out of my room. I was moving too fast and bumped into Sam at the top of the stairs.

He rolled his eyes as we jumped apart, giving me a scathing look. "Don't you girls ever learn to be ready on time?"

"Well, I would've been ready if _somebody_ hadn't taken a suspiciously long shower earlier tonight," I retorted. I pushed past his frozen stance, down the stairs and opened the front door.

"Hey!" Alice greeted enthusiastically. Edward was with her, standing on the first steps leading up to the house. "Ready to go?"

"One second," I told her and sat down on the bench, shoving my feet into my shoes.

"No rush," Alice said, watching me. "It's not like we'll be late. There's no traffic around here."

"I don't think you _can_ be late to a bonfire," Edward added, throwing his car keys from one hand to the other just as loud barking sounded from across the street.

"Oh no!" Alice exclaimed suddenly. "Pumpernickel!"

"Oh God." I glanced around the yard and street, panicky. "He hasn't escaped has he?"

Alice giggled and Edward gave me an odd look. "I just remembered that I forgot to change his water," she said and I relaxed. "I'll be back in two minutes." She turned to go and then stopped. "Unless you want to come with me, Isabella?"

I shook my head. "That's all you, Alice."

Alice laughed and skipped down the steps, past Edward. "I'll meet you guys at the car," she called over her shoulder.

"Not a dog fan?" Edward questioned, staying put.

"Pumpernickel is not a dog. Stop calling him that." I told him sternly. I eyed the top of his head and added, "Do ever take that hat off?"

"Nope. It's glued to my head," Edward answered, not missing a beat.

I scowled at him. "Seriously – why do you wear that thing all the time?"

"My mom said it made me look handsome."

That made me laugh but I cut myself off abruptly when Sam poked his head out the door to see Edward and I standing outside. "Oh, you're still here," he said to me. He jerked his head to the inside of the house. "Phone call for you."

"Who is it?" I asked him, standing up.

"Your boyfriend. That Ben guy."

The total suckieness of the past couple of weeks slammed into me, and my heart hung in my chest, frozen at his name. "I - tell him I'm not home," I told Sam, shaking my head. My mom must've given him Charlie's home number. She doesn't know we broke up. "And he's not my boyfriend anymore."

"I just told him you were still around," Sam said casually with a shrug.

"What? Why?" I snapped at Sam. My throat felt like it was ten times too big and I swallowed. I couldn't cry, not now. "You know I've been dodging his calls since I got here. I don't want to talk to him."

I took a step away from the house and chanced a glance at Edward. He was looking at his fingernails, as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

Sam rolled his eyes. "This is like, the five hundredth time he's called."

"Sam. I don't want to talk to him," I repeated, frustrated now.

"Just say hi to the guy. What's the harm?" Sam questioned innocently and I knew why he was pushing me—payback for the long shower comment.

I didn't want to talk to Ben. I wouldn't know what to say to him. I didn't know what happened between him and Angela, nor did I want to. The whole thing made me sick, all bottled up inside me because I couldn't talk to Angela. She was all I had and I couldn't talk about it with anyone else.

"Tell him I've just left or something. Which we are," I added to Edward who looked up. He nodded and we walked away, but Sam kept talking.

"Seriously, what's the deal with you and him?" he called out to us and my gut twisted. "Maybe if you two talked it out, you could –"

I spun to face him, nearly halfway down the driveway. "I'm not ready to talk to him, Sam!" I burst out. Tears stung my eyes. The street was quiet and my voice echoed around us. "It's the last thing I want to do right now, okay?"

From here, I could see Sam's smirk. He held up his hands. "Geez, fine. No need to lose your shit on me."

He ducked back inside and I took a moment to calm down, Edward next to me. My insides felt like they were shaking apart. I caught Edward's eye and he gave me a little smile. It made me deflate some.

"My ex," I mumbled, feeling awkward. "Messy break up."

Edward nodded and looked away as Alice walked out of their neighbor's side gate. We met her at a car parked in the Cullen's driveway.

"Shotgun!" she exclaimed, lunging for the passenger side door.

"Alice," Edward said flatly. He gestured to me. "Let Bella sit up front."

"It's okay," I told him. "She did call it first. Shotgun rules."

"Ha!" Alice said triumphantly and slid into the car. I chuckled, getting into the backseat behind Edward.

We drove out of the street and Alice turned in her seat so she could see us both. "Was someone yelling before?" she questioned and I tensed. "I thought I heard a shout or something from Pumpernickel's backyard."

"Nah," Edward said coolly as he took a left. "I didn't hear anything. I think you need to get your hearing tested, Small Fry."

"Shut up. And I hate that name," Alice whined, punching his arm and Edward mock gasped loudly in pain.

I relaxed again, sinking back into the car seat. "So, is there a reason why are you guys only going to this bonfire thing for no more than an hour?" I asked.

"I'm not really into parties."

"Alice has work in the morning."

I laughed at their simultaneous answers. "Okay?"

"You weren't supposed to tell her that!" Alice hissed at Edward.

Edward glanced away from the road, giving Alice a look of confusion. "So you have a job – who cares?"

"Where do you work?" I asked Alice interestedly.

"McDonalds. The one out on the freeway," she answered dully. "I have the breakfast shift tomorrow morning that I need to be up early for." She shrugged. "It sucks. I don't like working there."

"I hear you," I remarked in sympathy. "When I used to work at Wendys, I hated the breakfast shifts too."

Alice twisted in her seat to stare at me in disbelief and even Edward raised his eyebrows at me in the rearview mirror.

"Wendys? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously, Panda Hat Guy," I reached over and flicked one of his pom pom ears. He ducked his head but I heard him laugh.

"So," Alice remarked thoughtfully. "Before you were signed to a fancy record label in England – you worked at Wendys?"

"Yeah. I was on drive thru. Welcome to Wendys!" I trilled in my work voice –bright and enthusiastic like Alice's. Except mine was fake. "How may I take your order?"

They both laughed at me and for a moment, it made me forget about stupid Sam and bastard Ben.

When we got to First Beach, there were fifty or so teenagers scattered around three fire pits. People huddled together, talking and smoking cloves, pot and cigarettes. I could hardly see people around me. Their faces only partially illuminated by the light from the moon, stars and fires. A group of girls in bikini tops and shorts danced and laughed. Some people coupled up and started making out, not caring who watched.

Alice waved to some of the people, calling out happy hellos and walked toward one of the fires. Edward and I followed after her. Most of the people we passed nodded in my direction, as if they knew me, and some made remarks about Edward's hat. He never answered seriously, and took the jeers in stride, answering their questions back with sarcasm, like he did with me.

Alice introduced me to a group that included Peter and Jasper, and I took a seat with them on the sand.

"So, Isabella," a guy named Austin said to me and picked at a guitar. "What do you do?"

"She's a singer," Jasper answered for me, grinning at me from across the group.

"And a musician," Edward added and ducked under Peter's arm. He was sitting one person over, Peter in between us. He was attempting to swipe Edward's panda hat off his head and failing.

"Yeah, what instrument?" Austin asked.

"Guitar, mainly," I replied and Austin held out his guitar to me. I shook my head. "Uh, no. I'm good."

"Come on," Alice urged and bounced up and down from her place on the sand. "Play something!"

I took the guitar reluctantly from Austin. I flipped it around, so that my left hand was set against the strings.

Austin regarded my playing stance curiously. "Left handed playing a right hand guitar? Cool."

I shook my head. "I'm right handed. This is just how I learnt to play."

"Cool," Austin repeated.

I shifted on the sand and tried to think of something else to play. I didn't really want to sing a song of my own so I launched into the Beatles' _Love Me Do_."

By the time I began the second chorus, there was this kymbaya kind of moment where they were all singing with me. I couldn't say it was the most amazing sound, but it was pretty awesome. People started gathering around us. Another guitar appeared and requests were shouted out from the audience.

After a couple more songs, I handed the guitar back to Austin. As people drifted away, I managed to untangle myself from the crowd.

I plopped down on the sand a little closer to the water, wriggling and stretching my fingers as I looked up at the sky. it seemed there were more stars than sky, so many more that I could ever remember seeing—far more than I could see back in Arizona. After a minute, Edward joined me on the sand.

"They're beautiful," I said, watching the stars.

"I guess," Edward mused and did the same, looking up. "You know, they're only giant balls of gas burning billions of miles away."

"You did not just do that," I said, but I couldn't help grinning.

"Maybe."

"Quote the _The Lion King_."

"Pumbaa is one wise warthog." Edward commented and I hummed in response, still smiling.

There was some loud shrieking and a group of people ran by us, kicking up sand. They plunged into the ocean and the shrieking grew louder.

"Is it safe to do that?" I asked, worriedly.

Edward squinted out at the dark water. "Yeah. It's fine. There's not much in terms of waves. It's just flat water."

"Alice is in there," I pointed out. Alice gestured wildly to me to come in, her figure bobbing in the water. I shook my head and mouthed 'No way' in reply.

"It's a bit freaky because you can't see shit, but it's kind of cool too," Edward told me. "You should try."

"Oh no," I said. "I want to be able to see whatever's going to eat me."

Edward laughed. "Nothing's going to eat you."

"There are sharks and jellyfish and who knows what else swimming near the surface in the middle of the night. I've seen the movies." Actually, I watched Shark Week every year.

"It's just a bunch of stoners," Edward assured me. "There are no sharks or jelly fish or any 'Who knows what else's' swimming here."

"There could be. You don't know," I muttered, wanting to get the last word in. I refused to be made fun of by a guy wearing a panda hat.

"So, that was incredible."

"Jellyfish are incredible?"

"The singing," Edward said pointedly. "You're really good."

I gave him my usual response to when people say that to me. "You sound surprised."

"No." I glanced at him and he looked me in the eye. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," I whispered and my heart gave an extra hard thump. No guy should be making me feel this good so soon after what happened with Ben.

To shake the feeling, and also hoping to catch him off guard enough to give me an answer, I asked, "Why do you wear that hat?"

It didn't work. He half smiled and looked back up at the sky. "It goes with my eyes."


	4. The First Time - Chapter 3

I rested my chin on my folded arms, scribbled a word down in my notebook, then placed my hands on the guitar strings and strummed a few chords.

I stopped, glanced at my phone and rested my chin on my folded arms. Scribbled down some words, strummed my guitar and then stopped to glance at my phone again.

I had been going through this cycle for the past hour.

Angela had called twice that morning and I dodged her calls, but I was now considering calling her back.

I missed my friend, no matter what happened between us. I'm not sure that I wanted to forgive Ben yet. I guess I didn't know if I was ready to forgive Angela yet either, but I was ready to talk.

I was sitting outside, on the couch Charlie had on the front porch, because it was a nice day. Well, as nice as Forks got, anyway, and also because Sam was home and I was still pissed off about the other night and was trying to avoid him as much as possible.

I leaned my guitar back against the chair and grabbed my phone. I spotted Alice walking out of her neighbors yard across the street, Pumpernickel on his leash. She waved at me. I waved back and watched her walk down the street out of sight as I dialed Angela's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ang. It's me," I replied, hoping to come off as okay, even though I was anything but, now that we were talking. So weird. It was not supposed to be like this with Angela.

Angela immediately launched into an apology. "Isabella! I'm so glad you called. I'm so sorry. There's like, no excuse in the world. I mean, anything I tell you will sound like I'm not to take responsibility and all I want is for us to be friends again."

Her voice choked up at the end, like she was close to tears, but I was determined to stay calm. "It's like I lost both of you at once. I _did_ lose both of you."

We talked about her and Ben. She told me how horrible she's felt. How she couldn't bring herself say anything, saying it was keeping her up at night.

We were quiet for a moment. We'd never been awkward with each other. Back home, the adults – parents and teachers – they all loved Angela. Including my mom. They had no idea. Angela can be sweet and well rounded, especially around my mom, but she was also the devious mastermind of everything we weren't supposed to do and did anyway.

"So, how did it happen?" I prompted Angela, breaking our silence. "Was it at Jessica's party while I was in London where she got a fake ID and all that booze?" Angela remained silent and if it wasn't for her breathing, I thought she had hung up. "Angela?" I prompted.

"There was no alcohol involved," she said in a rush.

"So, what?" I said, confused now. "You guys hooked up because you liked each other?"

"Isabella…" she trailed off and my heart ripped a little further.

"Are you serious? That was a rhetorical question!" I snapped at her. "When I first started dating Ben and you told me how much you liked him - you _really_ meant that you liked him, huh?"

"I'm sorry," Angela said in a small voice. "I really am, Isabella. I can't believe I could feel this way after doing something so awful."

I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "Are you two dating?"

"We're…taking things slow."

I huffed out a laugh. "Meaning you're either together in secret and too chicken to go out in public, OR you two are waiting for me to leave for London so being together won't look so bad in front of people that we know. Or both."

We kept talking, no quiet pauses this time. Some things she said made me feel better. But a lot of things made me angrier. I unleashed on her, having things I wanted to share too, but because I suck at confrontation, I had to hang up because I was losing it.

I managed to garble out some sort of good-bye to Angela, before I hung up and burst into tears. I was crying into my lap so hard that I didn't see or notice Alice approach the house.

"Isabella?"

"Oh!" I swiped my hand over my face hurriedly. "Hi, Alice."

"What happened?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Nothing," I answered but the word came out all whiny and just talking made my body want to start crying again. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

I started to say yes, but just nodded instead. My breath was coming in these weird, gaspy chokes, and I couldn't seem to make it stop.

Alice took a seat on the couch and gave me a hug. The gesture was so nice and comforting, it made me lose it all over again.

"I'm so stupid," I said, my body shaking in a sob, tears running down my face again. We pulled apart and I spilled out everything about Angela and Ben to this sixteen year old girl I just met two days ago.

"Sorry, Isabella," Alice said, once I was done talking. I wiped my face again. My body was doing this weird quivering thing and I pulled in another breath.

"Were you writing?" She asked me, looking at the paper that was on the couch between us. She picked it up and skim read it. "If this is about Ben, there isn't any emphasis at all on how tiny his prick is."

I almost laughed. Almost. I breathed in again and my body relaxed. Not a ton, but a bit—enough that I was able to hold myself together for a while.

"Can I hear it?" Alice prompted, looking hopeful.

"Sure." I didn't usually let people hear my work this early in the writing process, but it was the least I could do after I unloaded my sob story on her without any warning. I wiped away the last remaining tears off my cheeks and picked up my guitar, launching into the song.

"Woooow," Alice breathed out after I was done. She looked impressed. "That was so good!"

"I sound like a goblin from all the crying," I told her, feeling sheepish.

"Shut up," She dismissed, waving her hand. "You're voice is amazing. How long have you been working on that?"

"Um, what time is it?"

She glanced at her watch. "Just after noon."

"I go the idea this morning and starting writing at ten o'clock. So, two hours, I guess."

"Are you serious?" Alice stared at me. "It took you only two hours to write that?"

I shrugged, shifting my guitar away. "What you heard was just a really rough draft. I usually work on my songs using both guitar and a piano, but Charlie doesn't even have a keyboard, so I'm using the guitar until I get back home and then I'll work on it again on my piano."

Alice perked up. "We have a piano! Do you want to use it?"

I was going home tomorrow and it could wait, but knowing there was a piano right across the street from me was tempting. "Could I? It wouldn't be for too long," I assured her. "An hour. Maybe two."

She waved her hand again. "Use the piano for as long as you like. Nobody's home and the piano sits in the back of the house anyway."

"Okay. Let me just put my guitar back inside." I placed my guitar back into its case and then leaned it against a wall near the front door inside the house. I grabbed my writing journal and we made our way across the street. "So, who plays the piano in your house?" I asked Alice.

"Nobody," She answered. "It was my grandmothers and it got left to us when she died. Although, my dad likes to think he's Mozart when he drinks too much eggnog at Christmas."

I laughed. "Charlie's Fred Astair at Superbowl finals, twirling around the living room after drinking too much beer."

"Oh, I know," Alice told me, her tone wry as she led me inside her house. "My dad hosted the game at our place this year. Charlie broke a vase and two picture frames with his moves."

I groaned. "My dad is so lame."

"I'm pretty sure being lame is the only thing dad's are good at," Alice acknowledged with a shrug. "Anyway, the piano's in here." She stopped in front of a room at the far end of the house. It was like a sitting room/parlor type room, but with glass windows on one side that overlooked the Cullen's back yard. I spotted Edward outside with garden shears cutting branches off a tree.

I watched for a moment, seeing him pause to look up at the tree. The ever-present panda hat started to slip backwards off his head and there was a flash of blue. I leaned forward to look closer but he managed to catch the hat quickly, pulling it down and righting it on his head. I couldn't think why there would be any blue on a black and white panda hat, other than it must have been the color of the inside lining.

"It's over on this side," Alice told me, drawing my attention away from Edward. She stood in front of a light brown, wooden spinet piano. A lace doily ran across the length of the piano, on the top board with picture frames and souvenir trinkets. Alice plinked one of the keys. "Will you let me hang around while you work on the song?"

With a straight face, I said to her: "No, Alice. I'll need complete privacy in _your _house, using _your_ piano while I work on some silly song." Alice made a face at me and I shook my head, amused. "Of course you can hang around. You'll probably get bored though. I won't mind if you get up and leave."

"I'm not gonna get bored." Alice flopped down on a squashy armchair adjacent to the piano, grinning at me while I took a seat at the bench. "When you release this song and it becomes a massive hit - I'm going to tell everyone how you wrote it in MY house using MY dead grandmothers piano."

"That's so sweet, Alice," I teased, laughing at her.

"You just do your singing thing and I'm going to be quiet as a mouse," Alice said seriously. I opened my journal and took out a pen from my jeans pocket. "You're not going to hear a word from me. Promise."

"Okay."

I pressed the 'C' key, testing to see if it were in tune it was. I placed my foot on the pedals below and started tinkering around the keys idly. Alice kept still and quiet beside me, watching me but I quickly forgot about her as I absorbed myself in writing and playing.

I worked for a good three hours. When I read over what notes and words I had written and felt good about it, I turned to Alice to ask what time it was - only to see an empty armchair. In her place was a sheet of paper.

_Got called into work to cover someone who got sick. Sorry I had to leave! _

_Parents are out at that football game. Edward too. _

_Everything in the house is locked._

_All you need to do is pulled the door shut behind you when you're ready to leave. _

_You can go through the front door or the back yard - either one, doesn't matter._

_No hurry - take your time writing that song!_

_I'll come over and see you tomorrow morning to say goodbye._

_Xx Alice_

I sighed, reading over her note again. Well, that was a bit of a bummer. After my phone call with Angela and pouring all my energy into writing, I was hoping to go out and do something. Not that Forks had a lot of things to offer, but it would've been nice to spend tonight with some company.

I gathered my things, my journal and pen, ready to head back to Charlie's for my pity party for one. I decided to go through the backyard and stepped outside only to step on someone's hand.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" I cried out, taking my foot off of Edward's hand. "Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"I'll live," Edward told me, flexing his fingers.

He was sitting by the side of the door, leaning back against the house, his legs stretched out. I wondered if he was listening to me sing and how long he had been sitting out here for. "You're not at the football game?" I asked him.

"Not into football that much. I'm more of a baseball guy," Edward replied. He got up from the floor and tugged his hat down over his ears. "I just got back taking Alice to work. She told me to tell you sorry for ditching."

"Yeah. She left me a note." I said just as the doorbell of the house rang.

"That's my pizza." Edward glanced into the house and then back at me. "Wanna stay and have a slice?"

I had worked on the song through lunch and was currently starving, so a slice of pizza sounded really good. But before I could say yes, I needed to ask an important question. "What topping did you get?"

"Meatlovers. With extra pepperoni."

I thought for a moment—it wasn't pineapple and ham, the best toppings ever, but it was still good—and then nodded. "Okay."

Edward led me into the house and I waited for him in the kitchen, while he answered the door. There was a vase of flowers on their countertop and I was admiring them when Edward walked in, pizza box in hand, already eating a slice.

"Pretty," I commented, regarding the flower. It looked like a daisy, but not one that I had ever seen, with the petals being reddish brown in color.

"You should smell it."

I stared at him, wondering if I had heard him correctly. "Um."

Edward opened the fridge and got out two cans of soda. "Smell the flower," he said casually, passing me a can. "It smells nice."

I gave him an odd look, and he shrugged back. I briefly wondered if this was some sort of prank (maybe it was one of those fake flowers that squirted water). So I reluctantly leaned over and smelt the flower.

"Oh my God. It's like..." I smelt the flower more deeply, "like chocolate. In a flower!"

"That's a Chocolate Cosmos," Edward told me as we settled on the counter chairs. "They belong to the daisy family."

I pulled the vase closer to me. It smelled _so _good. "They smell like a Milky Way bar," I stated dreamily. "I love Milky Way's."

Edward scoffed, helping himself to a second slice. "Twix are ten times better than Milky Way bars. It's a known fact."

"Do you have any Milky Ways?"

"I think so."

"And some hot chocolate mix?"

"Probably." Edward was the one looking at me oddly now. "Are we playing some sort of 'guess the contents of a kitchen' game?"

"I'm going to prove you wrong and show you how great Milky Way bars can be."

"Have you even tasted a Twix bar before?" Edward questioned, looking genuinely offended. "They're the greatest chocolate bar in the country."

"Not after what I have to show you," I assured him and he shook his head at me. The panda's pom pom ears moved with his head and an idea came to me. "But I'll only show you the hot chocolate, Milky Way drink if you give me something in exchange."

"Oh, really?" he drawled, rolling his eyes. "And what am I supposed to give you?"

"You can give me the story of why you wear that hat."

"There is no story to the hat," he countered quickly. Too quickly.

"Oh, really?" I mimicked. I narrowed my eyes. "So you voluntarily wear a hat in the shape of a panda? All the time? Because you want to?"

"Yes."

"I call bullshit."

Edward shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Call it what you want. There's nothing to tell, other than the fact that I just like wearing the hat."

I scowled, feeling frustrated and then thought of a different tactic. "How about this," I began, leaning forward in my chair. "I'll make my Milky Way, hot chocolate drink and if you like it, you'll tell me about the panda hat. If you don't like it, then you don't have to tell me anything."

Edward looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay. If I don't like the drink, I don't have to tell you anything. But as payback for you losing..." He grinned, looking smug. "You have to take Pumpernickel for a walk."

"No," I said immediately. I shook my head quickly. "I am not walking that…that _thing_."

"He's just a dog, Bella."

"No, he isn't! Stop calling him that!"

"Do we have a deal or not?"

I grimaced at the thought of losing this bet and having to walk that beast of an animal. "Fine," I finally said. "Deal."

A few minutes later, Edward and I were standing side by side in front of two oversized mugs of steaming hot chocolate. Next to it were some straws and a bag of fun sized Milky Way bars, the kind you gave away to trick-or-treaters at Halloween.

"So, to start with, you eat both ends of your Milky Way -" I took a small bite out of one end of the chocolate bar and then flipped it over and did the same to the other end. "And then with the hot chocolate, you do this -" I used my Milky Way as a straw, drinking my hot chocolate through it and then took a bite of the melting chocolate to keep it from dropping into my mug. "See? Ifts freey yummy," I mumbled around my mouthful.

"Is that all?" Edward looked unimpressed. "That's kinda lame, Bella."

"Just try it, Panda Hat Guy."

Reluctantly, Edward did the same thing as I did and took a small sip of his hot chocolate. He swallowed and shrugged.

"Eh."

"Eh?" I repeated, incredulous. "You did not just 'eh' my Milky Way hot chocolate drink. Take it back and say you like it."

"But then I'd be lying," He told me. He ate the rest of his chocolate, and then took another sip of his drink. "And if I were telling the truth, and I am, I'd say that this drink is only okay and that I've had better."

"There is no better drink!" I said angrily, raising my voice. I can't believe I'm not going to hear the story about the hat now that he thinks the drink is 'only okay'. "It's a chocolate bar that you use as a straw to drink hot chocolate with! How can you not understand how amazingly delicious that is!? Are your taste buds dead? Do you even have any taste buds?"

"You're cute when you're frustrated," Edward said out of nowhere. He was grinning at me. "I'm just teasing. This is actually pretty great."

"Told you so," I replied, even though I'm completely thrown. I'm the one who thinks he's cute—he's not supposed to think I'm cute, too. That's not how this works. I can't think up of anything to reply to his comment about me, so I defer the topic back to the main part of the conversation. "You owe me a story, Panda Hat Guy."

Edward reached for another chocolate. "I agreed to tell you the story. Not that I had to tell it to you right now."

"No loopholes!" I exclaimed, frustrated. If I don't get to hear the story now, I never will. "I go back to Phoenix tomorrow. We had a deal-"

"You're leaving?" Edward interjected.

"Yes," I emphasized pointedly. "And I don't know when I'll be back in Forks. This is the only time Charlie and me could manage to spend time with each other before I left for London."

"Right, London," Edward remarked and then stared into his mug, his eyebrows low. "I forgot about London," he added, almost to himself.

I regarded him curiously. He almost looked...disappointed. First, he thinks I'm cute and now he's sad we won't see other again? I wasn't sure I knew how to process that.

"Hazing, by the way."

"Where?" I glanced out the window, startled. "I don't see any smoke."

Edward laughed and moved to put his mug in the sink. "College hazing. Y'know, when you're in college and to get into frat or a sorority, their leaders make you do stupid, initiation shit?"

"Oh. That hazing," I remarked and then frowned. "What about it?"

"That's why I wear the hat."

"Is that it?" I prompted, giving him a flat look. "You have to wear the hat to get into a frat house? Who's being lame now, Panda Hat Guy?"

"There's more to it then that," he admitted and then stopped.

"Well?" I demanded eagerly. "Let's hear it then."

"I don't think so," Edward said and leaned back against the sink, looking smug. "I'm going to need something in return," he declared and I hesitated, suspicious. "You'll want to hear the next part, believe me," he stated heavily.

"Something in return - like what exactly?" I squinted at him. "If it has anything to do with that mutant of a creature next door that's disguised as a dog, I swear to God I'll -"

"I want to hear your song."

"What song?" I questioned stupidly.

"Alice said you wrote a song," Edward explained. "She talked about it in the car when I was driving her to work. Couldn't stop talking about how great both your voice and the song was."

"Your sister's good at overselling. How do you know she's not just being polite?"

"She might be," he acknowledged. "But I've heard you sing before and I meant what I said at First Beach - you're voice is impressive."

"Thanks," I murmured. I chewed on my lip, thinking about it. I really did want to hear the next part of his story and I guess it wouldn't hurt playing the song to one more person. "All right, you can hear the song," I relented and then added quickly, "But just the chorus."

"Just the chorus?" Edward echoed, wary.

"You told me part of the story, so you only get to hear part of the song."

Edward nodded. "Fair enough." He waved his hand at the kitchen door. "After you."

I stayed where I was. "Why am I singing before hearing the rest of the story? I think you should go first."

"Not a good idea if I go first, trust me," Edward declared cryptically, and then walked out of the kitchen. I scowled and reluctantly followed after him. He was already in the room with the piano, settling down on the bench. I sat down next to him and with the bench being so small, there was no choice but to sit close, shoulder-to-shoulder.

I stalled for time, fidgeting with my writing journal, making it stand up on the piano and stretched my fingers. I placed them on the keys but then quickly put them in my lap. "The song is really girly," I warned him, my voice rushed. "And melodramatic. Most of what I write is like that."

"I don't mind," Edward remarked with a shrug and watched me, expectant.

"The second part of your story better be really, really good," I muttered and placed my feet on the pedals underneath. Playing the opening notes for the chorus, I took a breath and sang.

"_Handbrake, mistrust, disbelief; Give me the emergency exit key; Heartbreak at the hands of the thief; Is killing me with some kind of urgency; And I'm thinking that you owe me an apology; Go and love the one that your with; I'm calling this a state of emergency because;_

_My love's for sale; I don't need it anymore; and if I fail, you'll hold my face back from the floor."_

I stopped singing abruptly and put my hands back in my lap, feeling embarrassed. "Okay, that's enough."

Edward gaped openly at me. "Are you kidding me?" he shook his head, incredulous. "That was so good. You gotta keep going."

"Tell me the story first," I demanded.

He ignored me. "I didn't think it was possible for you to sound better than what you did the other night at the bonfire, but you do."

"Finish the story."

"And the piano too. Your voice sounds ten times better with the piano than the guitar."

"Hey!" I elbowed him lightly in the side, laughing. "Stop being such a kiss ass and tell me the story!"

Edward screwed up his face, and then let out a heavy sigh. "Fine," he relented and I sat up straighter on the bench, excited. "But it's more of a visual thing, to be honest."

He reached up and pulled the panda hat off his head, revealing the greatest thing my eyes had ever seen in my eighteen years on planet Earth.

"Oh my God! It's BLUE." I laughed loudly, not even bothering to keep quiet. "You have blue hair!" His hair was messy and hung slightly over the top of his eyes, nothing unusual there – except for the fact that it was bright blue.

"Yup," Edward said, his tone bored. "My hair is blue."

"It's so bright! And blue!" I repeated, still awed, still gawking at his hair and still laughing. "Is it a wig?"

"No, not a wig."

"It has to be a wig," I remarked in disbelief. "No hair can be that be dyed that blue."

"Mine is."

"Can I touch it?" I reached out but he leaned away.

"No, Girl I Just Met Three Days Ago, you cannot touch my hair," Edward stated mockingly, eyeing me oddly.

"So the hair is part of the hazing thing too?" I asked, trying to distract him and reached out again.

"Stop it." He glared at me and I pouted at him, lowering my hand. "And yes, its part of it."

"What college do you go to?"

"U-Dub. Seattle."

"That's pretty far from here," I pointed out and then glanced to the panda hat that sat on top of the piano. "Who's going to know if you cover your hair with a plain hat?"

"Jasper will," Edward said flatly. "He's my roommate. He's trying to get into the same frat house. We try to one-up each other as much as we can, so the first chance he'll get to see me not wearing the hat, he'll rat me out."

"Bummer," I remarked sympathetically. "So, how did you get it that blue? Did you have to bleach your hair first?"

"I don't know. They did it to me in my sleep," Edward muttered.

"Seriously?"

"I'm a really heavy sleeper. Like, real heavy. I'll sleep through anything. Jasper gave that piece of information to the frat leaders. I got my payback though," he added with a wicked grin. "Because you're a girl, I won't explain how though."

"Ew, gross," I remarked but laughed. Edward turned to the piano keys, plinking some idly.

"So, that song," he began, still playing. "I'm going to take a guess and say it was about the ex, right?"

"Yeah. His name's Ben and he's an asshole," I declared warily and started explaining. "When I came back from London, things were a little tense between us. I had this feeling that maybe he was going to end things because I was leaving and long distance relationships don't have a good rep. And I was right...in a way. About a week after I got home, I was over at Ben's place doing homework. He got up and went to the bathroom and left me on the couch. While he was gone he got a text message. His iPhone flashed the message from my best friend Angela saying, "Can we just forget about what happened on Tuesday night? It wasn't like me at all and I don't want to be the one to ruin things with Isabella."

Edward shifted on the piano bench, looking uncomfortable. "He cheated on you with your best friend?"

"Clichéd right?" I laughed humorlessly. "There was a lot of screaming and yelling on my part after hearing that. I stormed out of his house and made the forty-five minute walk back home. The next two weeks at school were unbearable. I didn't want to talk to either of them and avoiding them was getting harder. One night, Charlie made his usual monthly phone call to say hi. While we were talking, everything that had happened between Angela and Ben had sort of burst out. He suggested I come up here to get away for a little while. So, here I am." I finished and my chest felt heavy, my eyes prickling with tears. _I hated that. Am I ever going to get over the fact that my should-be boyfriend was now with my should-be best friend?_

"Can I hear the rest of the song?" Edward asked quietly.

"Um, I guess so, yeah," I replied with a shrug. Because I had the feeling I was going to cry, I idly played the introduction to the song for a few moments before singing.

When I finished, Edward let out a laugh.

"Holy fucking shit."

"Was it that bad?" I asked, feeling confused and also, a little pissed because of his laughter.

"No, the opposite." He raked a hand through his hair, amused. "I'm just feeling really...I don't even know," he said, laughing again. "I suck at words. You're really, really good. Piano, guitar, singing, songwriting - all of it. I can see now why everyone think's you're going to make it big."

"Thanks," I said, feeling pleased. I picked up the panda hat, seeing if he would let me try it on and he did. One of the souvenir trinkets on the piano top was a small mirror and I glanced at my reflection.

"I am totally working this," I said, flattening the hat over my ears. "Does it come with matching mittens?"

"No. Thank fucking God," he added under his breath and I grinned at him. He reached out and straightened the hat a little to the left. "Better," he murmured. With his face this close to mine, he was just nose and cheeks and eyes that are freakishly green against his blue hair.

My heart kicked into quadruple time and we stared at each other. I wished he would just lean in and kiss me or that I had the guts to lean and kiss him but he isn't and I don't because it's too soon after Ben but I want to, I really, really want to and –

"I don't think it would be a good idea if I kissed you right now," Edward whispered, shattering the moment.

"Because you're an awful kisser?" I whispered back, even though I think I knew the answer.

"I don't think you're completely over what happened with Ben," he said, confirming my thoughts.

"I wish I were over Ben," I admitted unthinkingly. Heat crept up my neck over my bold statement but Edward grinned.

"Me too," he replied, with a glint in his eye. "It would've given me a chance to prove that 'bad kisser' statement wrong."

"You say that," I said, staring at his mouth. "And yet you haven't moved away."

"I like to draw out the moment before I kiss someone," he murmured. "It's kind of my thing."

I'm about to make some sort of comment about his 'thing' being a little more south, when I heard a door open in the house. I'm the one to lean away, glancing around the room.

"Parents are home," Edward declared. "They'll head upstairs in a second."

Edward and I listened to the sounds of muffled talking and shuffling and then sure enough, there was the clomping of feet heading up the stairs. I took it as my cue to leave.

"I should probably head home too," I said, getting up from the bench. "I didn't tell Sue or Charlie I'm here. They might be wondering where I am."

"I'll walk you out," Edward stated and got up with me, leading me out the door leading to their backyard. As we walked past the side of the house, there was an explosion of barking from the other side of the fence. I shrieked, leaping away and then let out a frustrated sound.

"Stupid dog!" I shouted, but my voice was all high and squeaky. I kicked the fence lightly to make myself feel better.

"Relax," Edward told me, but he was laughing. He knocked on the fence. "Quiet, Pumpernickel."

There was a low woof and I grimaced, walking faster.

"You can handle singing in front of complete strangers," Edward said from behind me. "But dogs freak you out?"

I didn't answer until there was a good distance between Pumpernickel's fence and me. "Pumpernickel can kill me – I can't die from singing," I told him and he scoffed at me. "Its true! What if, while I'm asleep, Pumpernickel breaks into Charlie's house, sniffs me out, goes into my bedroom and then eats my face?"

Edward gaped at me. "Eats...your face?"

"It could happen!" I pointed wildly to Pumpernickel's house. "That thing is a killing machine!"

"You're funny," Edward declared, looking amused. "Maybe you should write a song about you're hatred for dogs."

"Maybe I will," I retorted lamely.

Edward put his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "So, do you prefer song writing or singing?"

"Song writing, definitely." I shrugged. "I don't know why writing lyrics comes to me so easily. I like words. They fascinate me. Individually, they're a thing of beauty but put them together and you can create something really great and powerful. Not just with songs, but books and screenplays as well. It's that thing where something happens to you that make you have certain emotions that not even your best friend can sympathize with. But you can always find a song or a movie or a book and it will understand you."

"Did you practice that for when MTV interviews you on your music?" he teased. "Because it's a good answer."

"Shut up," I muttered, but I laughed too.

"And moving all the way to England by yourself doesn't scare you?"

"I guess," I answered musingly. "But I'm glad I have the chance to do this though. Because I'd rather look back and regret something I did when I was young and crazy, than look back and regret something I never had the courage to do, and realize it's too late."

"What about England itself?" Edward prompted and I frowned, confused. "Doesn't the Queen have dogs? What if one of those little fluffy things come for you and eat your face?"

"Not funny," I muttered. It's not fair that a guy with blue hair could make fun of my fear of dogs. A cute guy with blue hair but still, my fear was perfectly rational.

"I'll stop making fun now and leave you alone. Good luck in London, Bella," he said with a sincere smile. "I hope it works out really well for you."

"Thanks. And good luck with the hair and the hat," I teased.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Seriously. I hope you get to write and record all the songs you want. You're too talented for it to go to waste."

"I'm serious too," I told him, widening my eyes because I don't know why I can't accept a compliment without a sarcastic reply. "You'll need the luck. What if your hair stays blue forever? Or if the hair grows into the fibers of the hat and you can't get off your head?"

"_That's_ not funny," he emphasized seriously, raking a hand through his hair again. "Speaking of, can I have my hat back?"

"Oh, sure." I had forgotten about it still being on my head, that's how comfortable it felt.

And I don't know why I did the next thing I did - I took the hat off my own head, stepped forward and put it on Edward's head. Doing so brought our faces close again, my hands on either side of his head, and I swear the air between us prickled with some current.

"Now you're just making fun of me," he whispered, referring to how close our mouths were.

"Not really," I whispered back and straightened his hat. "I'm starting to see what you mean." It took a lot - _a lot_ - of will power but I managed to step away. "I still prefer the actual moment, rather than the build up."

"Everyone prefers the actual moment," Edward pointed out teasingly and I nodded in agreement.

Then there's an awkward moment because I'm not sure how to say goodbye to a guy I had a near kiss with and was one of the most comfortable people I spent time with here in weeks. And also wore a panda hat and had blue hair.

So I leaned up again and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye, Edward," I said in a rush and then quickly made my way across the street. I was halfway up the driveway, walking with my eyes closed, mentally berating myself when he called out to me.

"Bye, Bella! I'll be sure to give a kiss goodbye to Pumpernickel for you too!"

I didn't turn around but I laughed and lifted my hand to wave.

The whole point of coming here to Forks was because I didn't want to feel anything for anyone. But it turned out all I needed to kick-start my heart again was a guy with blue hair and a panda hat.

* * *

_**Interview Transcript – Isabella Swan, Tanya Alexandrov, Edward Cullen**_

_**Edward: "**__And she never saw him again…"_

_**Isabella: **__"You're sitting right next to me."_

_**Edward: **__"Oh, right."_

_**Tanya: **__"So that's the origin of your _'Love for Sale'_ song. I always wondered how that song came to be."_

_**Edward: **__"Whatever happened to that Ben guy?"_

_**Bella: **__"He ended up marrying Angela. From what I've heard, they have two kids and run a successful bakery."_

_**Edward:**__ "I hope their kids are hideous and that their bakery goes bankrupt."_

_**Bella: **__"Edward!"_

_**Edward: **__"What? That guy was an asshole for what he did to you, you said so yourself."_

_**Bella: **__"It was thirty years ago, I'm over it now. I wish both Ben and Angela all the happiness in the world. And that their kids aren't hideous and that their bakery does well."_

_**Edward:**__ "Never mind that it was thirty years ago. An asshole is an asshole."_

_**Bella (sound of a glass being pushed away out of mic range): **__"I think you've had enough to drink."_

_**Edward (sound of the glass being pushed back into mic range): **__"That's your opinion. I, on the other hand, think I'm due for a refill."_

_**Bella: **__"You're getting another pint?"_

_**Edward: **__"Open tab, remember? Actually, does the open tab include food too?"_

_**Bella: **__"Don't answer that, Tanya."_

_**Tanya: **__"Okay."_

_**Edward (sound of a chair being dragged away from table): **__"Fine. But I'm getting a large plate of chips for the table anyhow."_

_**Bella: **__"That's fine, Edward. Go and get your drink and food while I continue on with the second part of the story."_

_**Edward: **__"In case I don't return in time, be sure to tell her about the part where I was your hero and saved you from that rat."_

_**Bella: **__"I think the term 'hero' is a little too strong."_

_**Edward: **__"Handsome, charming hero – How's that?"_

_**Bella: **__"I meant, that I wouldn't use the term 'hero' at all."_

_**Edward: **__"I would definitely use it. It's real 'damsel in distress' story. I swooped in and saved the day. Hero."_

_**Bella: **__"I wasn't a dam – ugh, will you just go and get your drink?"_

_**Edward: **__"Gladly."_

_**Tanya: **__"Did he really swoop in and save you from…a rat?"_

_**Bella: **__"Well, I should probably start at the beginning. Otherwise it will sound ridiculous out of context…come to think of it, it sounds ridiculous IN context as well. But I've come to accept that anything involving Edward and myself is ridiculous."_

_**Tanya: **__"I don't think so. I actually think you two are quite sweet. And funny."_

_**Bella: **__"Thank you. That's nice of you to say._

"_Anyway, on to the next part of the story. Well, the second time I met Edward was at a wedding in Malta. I was twenty-four and Edward twenty-five. And then he spent ten days in London with me and it was all because of a fountain and a silly children's game…"_

* * *

**Far out, brussel sprout!**

**I am so unbelievably overwhelmed by the love this is getting. You guys are so great and I truly appreciate all the favourites, alerts and reviews you give me. Thank you!**

**Song credit – **_**Love for Sale, Faker**_

xoxo Will


	5. The Second Time - Chapter 1

**Bella: 24**

**Edward: 25**

**Year: 2018**

"Aw, come on, Vera. Please, please, please?"

"Bella, no. We don't have enough time."

"You don't need to come with me. I promise not to accept any candy from strangers, even if it's a Milky Way."

"It's still early enough for tourists to be around. What if you get recognized and create a scene?"

"It'll be fine. Come on, Vera! Pleeeeease?"

"Remind me to send Charlie and Renee something nice for Christmas this year," Vera remarked randomly.

I frowned, confused. "What? Why?"

"Because I suddenly have new found respect for them having to put up with you growing up," Vera replied irritably. "Good grief, you must have been a demanding child."

"I wanna see the fountain nooooow," I whined teasingly, slouching down in the car seat. Vera studiously ignored me, staring out the window. "Seriously though, Vera," I continued, straightening up. "I just want to see the fountain. I won't stay for more than five minutes. Promise."

"No, you don't want to 'see' the fountain," Vera emphasized, scowling at me. "'Seeing' the fountain would mean being an adult and standing a safe distance away to admire it. What you, at twenty-four years old, want to do is play that silly child's game and run through the fountain - which will take more than five minutes and will also ruin your dress, your shoes, your hair and the makeup that Victoria took hours putting together."

"It did not take hours for Victoria to get me to look like this." I gestured to my dress, feeling slightly miffed. It was deep green with a high collar and black detailing around the waist. "It took one hour. I don't look that much like a troll, you know. Also, I've seen plenty of adults play the game at the fountain," I added defensively. "Last time I went, I saw an old man playing it - and he had a walker!"

"You're not going, Bella."

"Fine," I muttered and turned to stare out the window, sulking.

Vera and I were in a taxi, driving from the airport into the central part of Valletta, the capital of Malta. I had just flown in from London, and I was here as a favor to Vera, my publicist, to sing at her best friend's wedding. It was one of those "jet in–jet out" sort of trips – landing at five p.m. in the afternoon and then flying back to Heathrow in seven hours, at two a.m. I hadn't even brought any luggage with me. I was dressed by my stylist Victoria after lunch and then stepped on a plane with just a clutch that had my phone, my passport and some money in it.

Rosalie, the bride and Vera's best friend, didn't know I was coming to her wedding. It was Vera's idea to surprise her, as she was a big fan of my music. I agreed to do it because I had been with Vera since moving to London by myself six years ago, and the record label assigned her to me. She had done a lot for me, and it felt good to finally give something back to her.

Except it didn't feel so great now that she wasn't letting me see the magic, wishing fountain.

We sat in stubborn silence for a few minutes before Vera spoke up, "Bella."

l ignored her, still sulking.

"You know I'm right when I say that there will be too many tourists at the fountain. You're supposed to be a surprise, remember?" Vera prompted pointedly. "I can't risk you being seen this close to the reveal."

I continued to ignore her even though she was right. As usual.

"But," she continued, letting out a sigh. "On the way to the airport after the reception, we can make a quick stop so you can play your stupid game at the stupid fountain."

"Yes!" I burst out happily and scooted over in my seat to hug Vera. "Thank youuu!"

"Don't hug me! You'll wrinkle our dresses!" Vera snapped, gently pushing me back to my side of the taxi. I laughed, shifting back in my seat as Vera smoothed out her shimmery silver–colored maid of honor dress. She had come to the airport straight from the wedding ceremony. "And I'm only letting you go to the fountain because you need to...I don't know…let off a little steam before tomorrow's meeting," she added with a shrug.

"Right. The meeting," I mumbled.

The next morning at nine a.m., Vera and I were flying back together to have a meeting with the manager of my record label, plus some of the board members. We have no idea what it was about. I had released two successful albums but my stomach churned at the idea of the record label dropping me. Record labels were fickle, demanding companies. Getting signed to a label was hard, but staying signed was even harder.

My unease must've shown on my face because Vera softened. "I don't know anything about tomorrow's meeting," she told me, not for the first time. "I'd tell you if I did – you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I assured her, shooting a smile her way and then turned my head to the front of the taxi to get a good look at the hotel where the wedding reception was being held. Vera said something to the driver in Maltese, her native tongue, and the driver nodded in response. Instead of pulling into the front entry of the hotel, we turned into an alleyway around the side, coming to a stop.

"We're going through the kitchen?"

"If any of the other guests see you, it'll spread like wildfire," Vera said, peering out the car to the double doors that led into the hotel.

I scoffed. "I hardly think I'm worthy enough to be spread like wildfire."

Vera gave me a flat look, pulling out her bag out from underneath her seat. "Bella, both your albums went straight to number one when they were released here – don't pretend like they didn't."

I involuntarily grinned, feeling fuzzy as Vera rummaged through her purse. I knew I should be used to hearing about how well my albums had done, but it still made me happy every time I heard it.

"Here." Vera held something out to me. "Put these on."

I glanced at her hand and immediately shook my head. "I'm not wearing those," I insisted. "There is no way to wear sunglasses indoors without looking like a complete prat. People who wear sunglasses indoors are complete prats."

"And then there are people who are complete prats whether they wear sunglasses or not," Vera remarked airily, putting the sunglasses back inside her purse.

"True," I agreed and then realized she was talking about me. "Hey," I added indignantly, but Vera was already stepping out of the car.

I thanked the driver before following after her. We stepped through the double doors into a large commercial kitchen. There were chefs and waiters bustling around with trays of food, calling out to each other. They paid us no mind as Vera led me to the service elevator. She pressed the up button, the doors sliding open almost immediately, and we stepped in.

"I'm excited about tonight," I declared in the elevator.

"Why?" Vera scoffed. "Tonight isn't any different from you performing anywhere else. You've done this hundreds of times. You just finished doing this hundreds of times," she added with emphasis as the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opened with a ding. "Except they were in arenas around Europe."

"Not that," I said, shaking my head. I grinned at her. "I'm excited because I get to meet Rosalie. Did you know that in the six years we've known each other, I've never met any of your friends? I didn't think you had any, apart from me."

"You're not my friend," Vera declared coldly. "I'm your publicist and you're my client. We work together, that's all."

"Well, you're my friend. My best friend, even." We stopped in front of a door marked "Premier Suite." I looked at Vera with seriousness. "Best friends forever, Vera. I love you."

"Stop it, Bella," Vera snapped at me, irritated. "Save your sappiness for one of your songs."

I laughed in response, used to her behavior. "Good idea. I think I'll write my next song about our friendship. I'll call it 'Happiness' because you make me happy, Vera."

"Good grief, you are so irritating."

I just grinned at her and then glanced at the door. "So, is Rosalie in here?"

Vera nodded. "Yes. I wanted to thank you for doing me this favor—singing at Rosalie's wedding during your time off—but now that you've annoyed me, I won't."

I widened my eyes. "Were you really?" Vera acknowledging anyone did with a thank you was a big deal.

"Yes," Vera said curtly. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. "And I was going to give you a hug as well. But you blew it. So no hug and no thank you."

"I take it all back, Vera. I won't write a song about you. I promise!" I said quickly and held out my arms. "Now let's hug!"

Vera shrank back, glaring at me. "Touch me and I will break all your fingers one by one."

"Violent Vera." Vera and I turned to see a very tall, burly guy smiling at us in the hotel room doorway. "Living up to your name, I see."

"Emmett," Vera acknowledged with a nod. She pushed past him into the hotel room, and Emmett rolled his eyes, moving to the side to let me through. "Emmett, meet Isabella Swan," she called over her shoulder. "Bella, Emmett the groom."

"Hi. Congratulations," I said to Emmett.

Vera moved hurriedly about the hotel suite, leaving the two of us alone in the lounge area.

"Thank you," he replied politely. We fell silent for a moment, regarding each other. He looked very handsome – his hair styled back and dressed in a gray three-piece suit with a light purple orchid flower pinned to his jacket pocket. "I'm staring, sorry," he said sheepishly with a heavy British accent. "I think I'm a little star struck. Rosalie and I are huge fans of your music. We saw you live in March. You were so great. Rosalie is going to be so happy that you're here."

"I'm excited to meet her," I said. "How long have you and Rosalie been together?"

"Please, have a seat." Emmett waved a hand at the couch. "We've been together nearly twelve years. I first saw her on a bus in London. I struggled for a conversation starter, so I took off my watch, put it in my pocket and then sat next to Rosalie and asked her for the time."

"That's so sweet," I cooed.

"Rosalie didn't understand any English, so she just stared at me for a good minute," Emmett remarked dryly, and I laughed. "We eventually got a conversation going, although I can't remember how. And when we started dating, I realized early on that it was a lot easier for me to learn Maltese than for her to learn English. You'll see what I mean," he commented lightly with a grin as Vera stomped back into the main part of the hotel room.

"Where the hell is your wife?" Vera demanded, glaring at Emmett. "I can't find her anywhere."

"I killed her," Emmett replied simply.

"What?" Vera snapped.

Emmett shrugged. "We took out life insurance last month, and if Rose dies first, I get a seven-figure check in return. So I killed her for the money." I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh, and Vera shot me a dark look. Emmett pointed to the French doors on the left of the room. "She's on the phone in there, Vera."

Vera said something to Emmett in Maltese as she strode toward the doors and then forcefully closed them behind her, rattling the glass panes in the door.

"What did she say?" I asked curiously.

"The Maltese version of 'eat shit and die,'" he replied with a shrug. "I don't know how you put up with Vera," he added. "She must be a nightmare to work with."

"She's my publicist. It's in the job description," I told him dryly, and he laughed. "Vera's okay," I amended. "I know how to handle her. Plus, making her mad is kinda fun."

"It is, isn't it?" Emmett agreed with a grin. "When her face gets that interesting shade of red and she starts spluttering at you - that's my favorite Vera face."

"I get that face at least twice a day, and it's almost always before nine a.m.," I joked.

Emmett laughed and then nodded to someone behind me. "I think they're ready for you."

I looked over my shoulder to see Vera with her hands over a woman's face, covering her eyes.

I had never met Rosalie before, and even though I knew it was her wedding day, I was momentarily stunned by how beautiful she looked. Tall and willowy, she was dressed in a bell-shaped wedding dress with her blonde hair in an elegant twist and delicate veil trailing down her back.

As I stood up and walked around the couch, both Vera and Rosalie seemed liked they were bickering, talking in rapid Maltese.

Rosalie suddenly stamped her foot and said, "Juru lili, Vera!"

Emmett laughed, saying something in Maltese too, and I saw Rosalie's mouth go down into a pout.

"Ready?" Vera mouthed, and I nodded, steeling myself.

Vera uncovered Rosalie's eyes with a flourish. "Sorpriża!" she exclaimed, and Rosalie shrieked at the sight of me.

I would say she shrieked like a banshee but it was more like Rosalie shrieked like a room full of banshees. She rushed over, enveloping me in a tight hug that caught me off guard.

"Hello!" I managed to gasp out, returning her hug. We swayed slightly, with my face pressed into her veil and Rosalie jabbering excitedly over my shoulder in Maltese. I could see Vera looking pleased—or as pleased as Vera could look—and Emmett laughing.

Rosalie finally let go, holding my upper arms and beaming at me. "Eessa-bella Swun!" she declared happily, in heavily accented English. "Is really you? Here in Valletta?"

"Yes," I confirmed in amusement, returning her smile. "Is really me."

Rosalie threw an arm around my shoulders, hugging me sideways. "Emmett, Emmett!" she said excitedly. "Look! Is Eesa-bella!"

Emmett replied to her in Maltese, and whatever he said to her seemed to make Rosalie very angry all of a sudden. She pointed at him, sprouting off rapid Maltese again. Emmett merely laughed and gestured to Vera. The two women returned to their previous bickering, now with added wild hand gestures. For a moment, I thought they had forgotten about me being in the room, but then Rosalie threw her hands up in the air and blew out a frustrated "pah!" and turned back to me.

"I am big, big fan of your moo-sic," Rosalie told me, taking my hand and leading me to the couch again. As we sat down, her dress fanned out and took up most of the couch space. Rosalie moved it around, making herself more comfortable. "You know, I am your first fan?" she asked me, then waved a hand at Vera. "Vera gets sent your moo-sic, she listens while I am there, and I fall in love with your voice. Vuċi ta 'anġlu," she said in Maltese, with a sunny smile.

"Anglu?" I repeated in confusion, glancing at Vera for a translation.

"Angel. She said you have the voice of an angel," Vera explained.

"Ah, well, we don't even know what angels sound like," I stammered, feeling flustered. "They could sound like nails on a chalkboard for all we know. Angel is a bit, I dunno, overboard. "

"Overboard?" Rosalie looked startled. "You fall off boat?"

"No, no!" I said immediately as Vera and Emmett laughed at us. "Overboard meaning . . . too much." Rosalie frowned, still confused. I made big arcs with my hand to gesticulate the word "too much." "You know, over the top –"

"Over top!" Rosalie repeated, nodding in understanding. "Yes, this word I know. It has been used many, many times while I plan my wedding."

"Our wedding," Emmett interjected from the other side of the room, looking amused.

"Yes, yes, our wedding," Rosalie corrected with an eye roll. "When Emmett and I arrange our wedding," she emphasized, shooting a glance at Emmett who nodded. "We talk wedding dance song, and I choose one of yours. Because I know Vera is mangering you, I ask her for you to come and sing. But Vera say, 'le, le Rosalie – Eeesa Bella is too busy. She cannot just drop everything and come sing for you.'"

I laughed at her imitation of Vera's voice because it was spot on.

"So I try to get Vera to, uh, how you say…" Rosalie made up and down gestures with her hands. "Pulling her strings?" she prompted uncertainly, and I nodded in understanding, trying not to be rude and laugh at her hand gestures. "But still Vera say no, and I get sad. But you are here now, and I am not sad anymore," she finished with a blinding smile.

"I'm glad you're not sad anymore. And I'm really happy to be here, Rosalie," I told her sincerely. I patted her hand and then asked, "So, what song do you want me to sing?"

=\\\=

A few hours later as I stood in the hotel ballroom, I understood what Rosalie meant about her wedding being over-the-top. But it was, admittedly, very beautiful. Everything was silver and white with lavender flowers arranged in oversized glass vases on the tables. There were ribbons on the backs of the chairs and a four-tiered cake topped with the tiny bride and groom. The crystals on the chandeliers seem to catch the light from the silverware, from the gleaming plates and the tiny glowing candles as well as the brassy instruments of the band that played the backing music of my song earlier.

After I sang for Emmett and Rosalie's first dance as a married couple, the attention switched to me as excited wedding guests asked for photos and autographs. The buzz eventually died down, and I was on my own for the moment, wandering around the ballroom. Vera was off mingling. She and Rosalie had grown up in Valletta together, and Vera knew a lot of the guests. Since moving permanently to London, she hadn't been back home for years, so she was trying catch up.

I stopped to lean against a table, discreetly trying to fix my shoe. The strap of my left shoe kept slipping down my heel, and trying to fix it made me bend over in a weird angle. As I subtly fastened the strap, I noticed Rosalie and Emmett standing a few feet away. The newlywed couple chatted with a group of people, and a small stab of loneliness came over me as I watched them – their hands clasped tightly together, eyes shining, both smiling like royalty, like the little couple on top of the cake.

I shook the feeling off, but realized that a drink would make me feel a lot better. "Where are you, alcohol?" I muttered to myself, glancing around the room for the bar. I pushed off the table, only to feel something soft flatten under my hand.

Lifting my hand, I realized I had crushed a part of the table's centerpiece. But not just any table's centerpiece – the main bridal table centerpiece. It ran down the entire length of the ten-seater table, a field of real lavender rows and lush green grass meadows rendered in elaborate detail. It even had a miniature cottage that, upon closer inspection, hid the salt and pepper shakers.

"Going for the big one?"

I hurriedly put the roof back on the cottage and spun round to face Emmett. "Sorry?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. "When wedding guests eye centerpieces to take with them, they're usually polite enough to leave the main centerpiece for the bride and groom."

I shook my head. "I'm not one of the polite ones. I'm super famous remember? I get to do whatever I want and when people try to question me, I pull the 'don't you know who I am?' card."

"Being super famous sounds super awesome," Emmett teased.

"It really is. Especially when you perform at weddings and get paid ten thousand pounds an hour to be here."

Emmett let out a low whistle. "American wedding singers are so expensive."

"Hey – you're American too," I shot back teasingly.

"Only on my father's side," he corrected with a smile. "I'm a Birmingham boy. Born and raised. " His parents had introduced themselves to me earlier – his father was originally from Chicago and his mother from Birmingham, England.

We were both quiet for a few beats, and I let my eyes rove around the room. "Everything looks beautiful," I admitted. "Especially this." I pointed to the detailed centerpiece. "It's brilliant."

"My cousin made it," Emmett said and then started to explain. "He lives in America and arrived yesterday, just in time for Rosalie's meltdown. The centerpiece she had originally planned for couldn't make it from Sicily to Valletta in time. So my cousin asked me some questions about what colors we were using for the reception and then he disappeared after that. No one saw him or heard from him until an hour before the ceremony when he appeared holding this." Emmett pointed to the table.

I stared in awe at the rows of lavender and the miniature cottage. "It's so detailed. It must have taken hours for him to create."

Emmett nodded. "Yeah. He's always been really good at this kind of thing. I can't remember what he does for a living, but it has something to do with plants. Studying them, I think . . . or is it creating new plants? Something along those lines."

"That is seriously brilliant," I declared.

"It seriously is," Emmett mentioned in amusement and then glanced around the room looking slightly wary. "I should go. I need to continue my part in socializing with the other guests."

"Good idea. It lets me continue my part in taking advantage of the open bar and getting a drink," I joked, and Emmett laughed lightly. "Where is the bar, by the way?" I added.

"You know, you can just tell one of the waiters what you want, and they will bring the drink to you," Emmett told me.

I pretended to think about that for a moment. "Or, I could tell multiple waiters my drink order. That way I get more than one drink at the same time." I fist pumped the air in celebration. "Yay for open bars!"

"Yay indeed," Emmett said, laughing at me. "But not too many or your wish won't come true at Angel's Dump."

I stared at him in surprise. "You know about that?"

"Vera told us," he explained. Angel's Dump was the name of a fountain – the one I had been begging Vera to let me go and see. "Have fun," he added teasingly over his shoulder as he walked past me.

I grimaced, feeling embarrassed at being caught ditching a wedding to play a childish game at a water fountain. I definitely needed that drink now. I turned on the spot and saw a waiter behind me. He stood in front of an oversized glass vase, looking like he was fixing the flowers in the arrangement.

"Scoo-zee," I called out and then grimaced at how awful my Maltese sounded. The waiter glanced around and finally looked at me, his eyes widening slightly. I prayed that he understood English. Or at least, types of alcohol in English. "Vodka lemon lime, please?" I asked hesitantly.

He didn't answer right away, so I did that thing you always do in a foreign country: I mimed taking a drink. The guy looked like he was about to laugh but stopped himself, glancing away from me and then back again.

"I'm not a waiter," he said. He sounded American. Apart from Emmett's dad, I thought I was the only American here.

"Sorry," I apologized meekly, feeling completely stupid.

The guy pointed somewhere to his left. "I do know that the bar is over by the balcony doors though."

"Thank you," I said gratefully, then stood up and walked away toward the bar. I only managed to take five steps when the band started playing a folks-y sounding song, and the guests erupted in cheers and whoops. They surged toward the dance floor in a wide circle, doing some sort of complicated dance routine. I watched with interest as Rosalie and Emmett entered the circle and the dance shifted to place them in the middle. A lady with a wide smile broke away from the group and grabbed my hand.

"Uh, no, no, no," I said loudly over the music as she tried to pull me into the dance circle. I shook my head frantically. The lady gave me an insistent look, tugging on my hand. "No dance," I added, waving my hand "no." I was certainly not dancing in those shoes and definitely not when I was completely sober.

The lady, still smiling, finally let go of my hand, twirling into the dance circle again, and I took that as my opportunity to slip away. The crowd had shifted behind me watching the dance floor like I was, but I saw a gap, and I slipped through it to step outside.

The ballroom opened up to small garden courtyard outside the hotel. In my hurry to get away from the dancing, the strap of my shoe had slipped off yet again. I went down some steps to a cement bench and sat down to fix it. People were standing around, sipping drinks, chatting quietly to themselves over the din of the music inside the ballroom.

The moon hung low, a yellowish crescent in a blue-black sky. The air was warm, but there was a tiny breeze that felt good on the bare skin of my arms. Having fixed the stupid strap, I glanced longingly at the door I had just slipped out of, wishing I had gotten that drink before I had come out here.

Just then, a hand appeared and placed a drink next to me on the bench.

The hand pulled back, and I followed it to see that it belonged to "I'm not a waiter and I speak with an American accent" guy.

He sat down next to me and nodded at the drink between us, holding a beer for him. "Vodka lemon lime, right?"

"Right, thank you," I replied automatically. Now that we were closer I could see that he was in fact a wedding guest – a very good-looking wedding guest at that. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and green tie – not in a coat and tails like the other waiters. "You didn't have to do that," I told him, picking up the drink and taking a sip.

"It's my excuse to come and talk to you." Not a Waiter ran his fingers over his jaw, looking apprehensive. "I've been trying to think of a good one all night. Saying hi and mentioning something nice about your music didn't seem like good enough reason."

"Well, maybe you should lead with that, and we'll see how we go from there," I said jokingly.

"Hi, Bella Swan. I think your music's really great, and the song you performed tonight was amazing."

Something niggled in my brain at the mention of him calling me 'Bella' but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I shrugged, giving him a mock bored look. "Not bad. The compliment was a little generic, but I'll take it." The guy laughed lightly, and I smiled in return. "I'm kidding. Thank you. That's very nice of you to say."

"Now's the part where we talk about the weather or something just as politely generic," he said. "And then I wait to see whether or not you recognize me."

"Oh, uh," I stammered, giving his face the once over. It was a nice face. Very nice. But nothing–-not the mixture of blue and green color of his eyes, his strong jaw, the arrowhead shape of his nose or the bow of his lips–seemed familiar to me at all.

"…And you don't," the guy finished, sounding amused as I drew my attention away from his mouth. "Which is fine because then I'd manage to subtly slip into the conversation something about blue hair and panda hats."

Bells dinged off in my head as realization hit me: "Edward Cullen?"

"Wow, full name. That's impressive."

I struggled to say anything in return, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the last time I saw him was in small town Forks, and now he was currently sitting next to me in the European island country of Malta. "What are you doing here?" I finally spluttered out.

"I'm at a wedding," he replied pointedly.

"Are you crashing their wedding?" I asked, shocked.

"I'm Emmett's cousin," he explained. "His dad is my mom's older brother."

"Right." I stared at him, my eyes fixated on his now normal colored hair. It was dark brown and looked stiff, and that might have been because he'd gelled it within an inch of its life. It didn't quite work for him, but it totally worked at the same time, in an odd way.

He noticed me staring and looked wary. "If you say that I looked better with blue hair, I'll push you backward into the hedge."

"I was thinking about the hat actually. I miss the pom pom ears," I teased, and Edward made a face. "Whatever happened to it?"

"I put it into a box and set it on fire," he told me. I gasped, dropping my mouth open dramatically. "And then I flew to New Zealand, the farthest country that I could think of, and buried the box underground. Just in case the hat somehow grew legs and found its way back to where I live in Seattle. I'm trying to prolong the chance of that happening as long as I can."

"Why would you do all that?" I asked, pouting at him. "It was such a cute hat."

"It got what it deserved," he muttered darkly.

We continued to talk, the conversation somehow steering into the direction of the wedding guests and how most of them seemed to have a story about America. How they were dying to see the Empire State Building (did Edward go there often?), planning a big trip the Grand Canyon (could I recommend things to do there?), or had a cousin who had just moved to Dallas (did Edward maybe know him?).

"Speaking of seeing places," I said, as Edward took a swig of his beer. "How long have you been in Valletta? Have you been able to see much?"

"I've been here…" – he pushed his sleeve up to look at his watch – "…around twelve hours, and I've seen is the inside of my hotel room and the chapel where the wedding ceremony was."

"The inside of your hotel? Did you sleep the whole day away?"

Edward shook his head. "No. There was an issue with one of the centerpieces, and I was helping out with that."

"Hold on," I said, remembering something. "Didn't you say that you're Emmett's cousin?"

"I am, yeah."

"The cousin who made the bridal table centerpiece?"

"Uh, well…" he glanced away from me, grimacing slightly. "Yeah, I guess."

"WOW!" I burst out, my voice echoing too loudly in the small courtyard space. A couple standing a few feet away threw an irritated look in our direction before continuing their conversation. "I mean, wow," I repeated in a whisper. "I saw it up close and it was so amazing. And beautiful. And detailed! How did you do that? I want one for my house."

"You want one?"

"Of course!" I told him earnestly. "I really like it. I was going to see if I could get the maid of honor, who happens to be my publicist, to sneak the centerpiece into her suitcase – but now that I'm sitting next to the creator –" I bumped my shoulder with his, grinning. "– maybe I can just ask him to make me one. How did you make it?" I added curiously.

"It's really no big deal," Edward remarked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. He started rolling the beer bottle in his hand. "I just...looked it up on the internet."

"You Googled it?" I prompted, deflating some. To be honest, I was expecting him to have a better story than that. Perhaps something to do with what he was studying or what he did for a living, like Emmett had mentioned.

"Yup," he said, nodding, his eyes still on the beer bottle. "I just typed 'create centerpiece' into Google and picked the first link that came up. It was one of those step-by-step YouTube videos." He leaned back and shrugged at me. "To be honest, I only made it because I didn't get to buy Emmett and Rosalie a gift from their bridal registry in time. So technically, it's my wedding present to them."

"Stores will be open here tomorrow," I told him. "You could've just looked around and bought them something."

"I'm on the eight a.m. flight back to Heathrow and then a five-hour layover before I fly back to Seattle."

"That's it? You're only here for a day?" I gaped at him. "I've heard of bank robberies that go longer than that."

"How long have you been here?" Edward countered.

"Around three hours."

"And when do you leave?"

"In about two hours. It's different for me," I added teasingly in response to the flat look Edward was giving me. "I'm famous. I need to go back to London and do very important famous people things."

"Of course," Edward mocked back, nodding. "Even if I did want to play tourist," he continued. "I have no clue where to go or what to see."

"You could just Google it," I told him innocently, and he rolled his eyes but I saw that he was fighting back a smile. "There are loads to do and see in Valletta," I began saying but then stopped, having a sudden brain flash. Making a snap decision, I placed my own empty glass on the bench and stood up. "You know what? I'll show you. Come on."

Edward looked taken aback. "Where are we going?"

"For a walk."

"A walk where?" he emphasized heavily.

"You'll see," I mimicked. Then I realized that a guy like Edward, especially a guy who looked the way Edward did, could take my invitation entirely wrong. "I mean – you know – a walk in a friendly sort of way."

Edward regarded me oddly. "As opposed to an unfriendly sort of way."

"Er, yes."

Edward remained seated but placed his finished beer bottle next to my glass. "Are you even allowed to go out on your own?" He glanced at the ballroom and then to me. The dancing was still going on in full swing.

"Yes. But my mom said you have to hold my hand when we cross the street – is that okay?" I said with a straight face. He was asking a lot of questions for a simple walk around a city. "What do you mean, am I allowed to go out on my own?" I prompted, bewildered. "Of course I'm allowed."

"What I meant was, shouldn't you be worried about being followed?" he pressed. "By photographers or something? Don't you have security?"

"Okay, firstly –" I gestured to the ballroom. "– I'm pretty sure ninety-nine percent of Valletta is at this wedding, so I don't think there's anyone else left in this city to recognize me. Secondly, I'm not famous enough to actually be followed and need security. Do I look like Madonna to you?"

"Madonna's still alive? Man, she must be older than a dinosaur by now."

"Do you want to go for a walk or not?" I asked, exasperated.

"Sure. I guess we could do that."

"Well, you don't have to sound so excited about it."

"I would be honored to go on a walk with you, Bella." He got to his feet and flashed me a grin that I felt ten feet below my toes. "In a friendly sort of way."


	6. The Second Time - Chapter 2

"So," Edward began as we walked across the street from the hotel. "Are you going to tell me where we're going or what?"

"Or what," I replied teasingly as my phone buzzed with a reply from Vera. I had just texted her to say I had left.

_You've gone with an old friend to see Angels Dump? By 'old friend' do you mean you've found a wedding guest to hook up with and the two of you are in your hotel room? Just make it quick and be downstairs in time for our cab, please._

I tsked under my breath but Edward heard me. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, sneakily looking at him from the corner of my eye. We walked side by side down a street lined with stores. He smelled good. Something plus soap, maybe. Laundry detergent. Or his shampoo. Something great.

Something I should probably stop thinking about in case I actually did invite him back to my hotel room. I didn't even know if was single.

Edward tugged at his tie and asked if we could stop. Edward peered at his reflection in front of a darkened bakery store window and began taking off the tie. I had a sudden impulse to help him do it. I didn't do that of course, but to resist temptation, I took a step out of tie-pulling distance from Edward, and texted back a reply to Vera.

_OMG it's not a code! Just a walk, nothing more. I'll be back (from the fountain, not from upstairs) in time for our cab. Have a good time at the wedding._

"Before, when you mentioned you had heard my music," I began as I put my phone back in my clutch. Edward nodded to show that he was listening, his tie now off and in his pants pocket. "_How_ have you heard my music?" I asked, curious.

"Because of these things." Edward replied, tugging on one of his ears.

I made a face at him. "What I mean is – none of my music has been released in the U.S. yet. So it's not like you could have heard me on the radio." This was true. I had known people from all over that knew or had heard my music, but most of my fan base was located in the U.K. and Europe, with my albums having only been released there.

"There's this thing someone invented forever ago called the 'Internet,'" he told me, straight-faced. "On the Internet, there's these things called 'websites.' There's a really popular one called 'YouTube' where you can look up videos of almost anything. A lot of the videos involve cute cats doing funny things but sometimes they have music –"

"Okay, Mr. Sarcastic, I get it," I interrupted but I felt myself smiling.

Edward didn't smile back and continued staring straight ahead. "Actually, it was my ex-girlfriend who really liked your music."

"Is that why she's your ex? Because you dumped her for her terrible taste in music?" I joked and then snapped my mouth shut. Ugh, Bella. Be a little more tactful.

"No," he said, breaking into a smile. "I actually really like your songs," he confessed. "I listened to your stuff a lot when _she_ dumped _me_," he emphasized lightly.

I winced sympathetically and then said, "I get that a lot, people telling me they enjoy my music, but are able to connect to it on another level if they're going through a breakup or having relationship issues. Which makes sense," I added musingly. "Considering my first album consisted of overly dramatic songs of heartbreak and teenage angst; and then my second album was full of songs based on the fact that everyone around me was able to be in a happy relationship while I was all alone and single. So, more angst basically."

Edward hummed. "Angst seems to be pretty rewarding."

"And you? What do you do for work?"

"I'm in a boy band." He answered so matter of factly that I let out a burst of laughter. "Yeah. We're real big in Sweden. I'm the handsome one."

"Sounds fun," I teased. "Being a singer by yourself is kinda lonely and boring."

"Right. Your life must be all kinds of dull," he remarked dryly.

"Well, at least I'm not as boring as you," I retorted defensively, whacking Edward lightly on the arm with my clutch. He flinched in shock but looked amused. "I can't believe you're in Europe for only a DAY. You need to stay longer," I insisted. "You have to stay longer. Have to."

"I have a five-hour layover in Heathrow," he told me. "Can't I see and do everything in London in five hours?"

"No, you cannot _see _and _do _everything in London in five hours," I stressed heavily. "If London were a person, they would be offended by that. On behalf of London, I _am _offended by that."

"I'm sorry? I guess?" Edward said, lifting his shoulders.

"And you should have come with someone," I pressed. I wanted to add something about his sister but couldn't remember her name. I'm pretty sure it was Alicia . . .or was it Allison? "Why didn't you come with your parents? Or Alicia?" I finally settled on.

"Who's Alicia?" Edward asked blankly.

Crap. "Um, your sister?"

"Her name's Alice," Edward corrected.

"Right! Alice," I repeated sheepishly. "She should have come with you. Was she busy with work? Oh, she's probably still in college, right?"

"My mom has a charity dinner that she's on the board of directors for and had to stay home for that," Edward said and then shrugged, looking awkward. "And I have no idea what my dad or Alice are doing. Since my parents' split up, I don't talk to either of them. We sort of had a falling out."

Double crap. I _knew_ about his parents divorce, but had forgotten all about it. "Your parents," I mumbled. "I'm sorry."

It had been just after I had finished promoting my first album release and there had been a break before I was to start working on my second–just like now being on a break before I had to work on my third album. It had been around my twenty-first birthday and I had decided to go back to Forks to visit Charlie and Sue.

When I'd arrived there, I'd noticed that a different family was living in the Cullen's house. I asked Sue what happened and she'd told me that six months earlier, Edward and Alice's dad, Carlisle, had filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. With Edward at college in Seattle and Alice getting into Penn, their parents had sold the house and had gone their separate ways. I knew that Sue and Esme had kept in contact for a while but have since lost track of each other.

"We chose sides," Edward continued. "When Mom and Dad fought, I would be on Mom's side while Alice would take Dad's. I think Alice and I yelled at each other just as much as Mom and Dad did. When the divorce was finalized, Mom and Dad didn't need to speak to each other anymore and it got to the point where Alice and I stopped too."

"That's so sad," I remarked quietly. I talked to, texted, Facetimed, Skyped my parents at least twice a week. Plus Sue and Seth. Even Sam sometimes. We weren't close and he was still an annoying idiot, but he sent me a Happy Birthday email every year and I did on his birthday too.

"No family is perfect," Edward said with a small smile. We were silent for a few beats, still walking before I spotted an archway in the distance.

"Has anyone told you about 'Angels Dump?'" I asked him as we approached the archway.

"No, they haven't."

"Well, this is it." We stopped in front of a railing. Angels Dump was an impressive circular-shaped fountain, five feet wide and about fifty feet deep. The huge archway poured water down in a rain formation to the center of the fountain where a miniature version of the fountain itself sat. Water swirled around the edges, causing it to look as though a sink full of water had the plug pulled out of it.

Edward leaned over the railing. "You took me out of a wedding with an open bar to show me a hole full of rocks and water?"

Edward was right in his description of it – the fountain was made out of metallic gray rocks that were sharp edged and jagged looking. Angels Dump was not the best looking fountain for sure, but I liked the story behind it.

I copied Edward's stance, leaning over the railing as well. "It's actually a sinkhole."

Edward straightened up quickly in alarm and he took a step back. "Uh, what?"

"Former sinkhole," I clarified. That didn't reassure Edward, who side-eyed the fountain dubiously. "The Maltese call the fountain _Il-Sekonda _and the rough English translation is 'Angel's Dump.' The story goes that a few centuries ago, Malta experienced a severe winter storm, possibly followed by an earthquake, creating _Il-Sekonda_. That's the proper, geological explanation for this," I told him, gesturing to the fountain. "But there's a myth to it that I think is a lot better."

"That's great," Edward interjected, his tone clipped. "But should we be standing so close to a _sinkhole_?" he emphasized. "I think we should stand somewhere safer." He took three wide steps backward. "Like here."

"Former. _Former_ sinkhole," I repeated insistently. "It's perfectly safe." I walked over to Edward, grabbing the sleeve of his suit jacket and dragging him back to the railing.

"I don't think there is such a thing as a 'former' sinkhole,'" Edward mentioned dubiously, trying to back away again, but I kept a firm hold on his sleeve. "Isn't there always a chance of sinkholes becoming bigger? What if the hole gets bigger right here, right now and swallows us up?"

"Will you stop?" I remarked, laughing at him. I had been to Angels Dump twice before tonight and seen small children and the elderly go into the fountain without hesitation. Thinking about that in comparison to Edward's fear was amusing. "I need to tell you about the myth and then we're going to do something."

"Is that something going back to the wedding reception?" Edward questioned hopefully. "The wedding reception that has an open bar?"

"No," I responded shortly and Edward's shoulders slumped. "The myth goes that in a village lived group of bad people who drank and gambled and were sexually provocative. God warned the group, through a good woman living close by, against their bad ways. As the bad people paid no attention to the warning, God made the land open up and swallow the village it sat on, sparing none except the good woman. The bad people were clever though, eluding God's plan by following the good woman and moving to high ground. However, they weren't fast enough, so God created an earthquake, putting the bad people on one side of the island and the good woman on the other. Finally, God sent down his angels to dispose of the side that the bad people were on by dumping it at sea."

"What a fantastic story," Edward said hurriedly. "That was super interesting and you're a great story teller." He shook my hand off his sleeve and turned to go. "We can leave now."

"Wait! I haven't made my wish!"

That stopped him. Edward glanced back, looking wary.

"It's a wishing fountain," I explained. "Did you know that there are no stars in Valletta?"

Edward automatically glanced skywards. "It could just be heavy cloud cover."

"No, it has something to do with climate change. _An Inconvenient Truth _and all that," I said, waving my hand dismissively because I didn't know the proper explanation to there being no stars. "Anyway, when you live in a city with no stars – what do you wish on?"

"A big hole in the ground apparently," Edward commented and fished out some coins from his pocket. "So I just toss a coin in, right?"

"Yes, but there's a bit more to it than that," I told him. "You'll need to take off your shoes."

"Er, no thanks. I like to keep my shoes on when making my wishes."

"Suit yourself." I slipped off both my shoes and placed them below the railing. "Just so you know, the water will ruin them. And yours look expensive."

Confused, Edward looked down at my bare feet and then out to the fountain, comprehension dawning on him.

"You're going in _there_ to make your wish?"

"_We _are, yes." I stepped over the railing and into the fountain, hissing between my teeth at how cold the water was. I wriggled my toes, trying to adjust to the temperature.

Edward was watching me closely. "How are you able to walk into a fountain without the police or any security stopping you?"

"Because anyone can do this and security will only step in if we're stupid about it – see, over by that bar there?" I pointed over to a blue and white striped booth with two security guards sitting inside it. They were watching us and I waved. "Hello!" I called out brightly.

They waved in return, one calling back, "Good evening!"

"Wait a minute." Edward squinted at them. "All this time we've been five feet away from a bar?" He turned away in the direction of it and said over his shoulder, "See you later, Bella."

I let out a frustrated squawk and hurriedly grabbed the back of his suit jacket. "Get in here!" I ordered, laughing at him, and he groaned loudly.

Edward toed off his shoes, throwing me a dark look. "This is really, really stupid," he leaned down to shove his socks in his shoes. "And I know stupid," he added, rolling up the hem of his pants up to his ankles. "I walked around with hair the color of toilet cleaner for nearly a year."

"A year? Is that how long the blue took to grow out?" I asked with wide eyes as Edward stepped over the railing.

"Actually, it took six months. I just liked the blue so much I kept it in for a year," Edward mocked grumpily and he stepped into the water before pulling back with a sharp hiss. "Ahh! Cold!"

"It's just water," I pointed out teasingly. "It'll feel okay in a while." Apprehensively, he touched his feet into the water. "You'll be fine," I said, huffing in impatience.

He stepped in properly, his face contorted at the temperature of the water. I snickered at him. "Come on," I said and wrapped my hand around his forearm. "We need to go down further to the smaller fountain to make the wish."

"How many times have you done this?" He gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Three," I answered. "And all but one of my wishes have come true. I'm still waiting for my pony to arrive."

Edward finally cracked a smile and I smiled in return, triumphant I could make him do that. We had now reached the bottom of the fountain and stood at the edge of its miniature version. He regarded the miniature fountain with interest and asked, "Is thiswhere we throw our coins in?"

I pointed to a circular dish that sat about an arms length away in the miniature fountain. "You have to try and flip a coin in there for your wish to come true."

"Hmm," was all Edward said in response.

"Hmm, what?"

"It's just . . .we're too close," he said thoughtfully. "If we were to stand here . . ." Edward moved carefully back three steps " . . . trying to get a coin in would be more of a challenge."

I glanced from where Edward stood to the dish, gauging the distance – around two body lengths away. "That's way too far," I noted dubiously. "I don't think I could get any coins in from there."

Edward looked contemplative. After a moment, he asked, "How about we make this more interesting?"

Make _what_ more interesting? I regarded him half amused, half curious. "We're standing barefoot in a fountain in the middle of Europe," I commented with a laugh. "How 'more interesting' do you want to make this?"

"How many coins do you have?"

I fished around in my clutch, taking out what coins I had. "Five."

"Me too." Edward held out his hand, five coins siting in his palm. "How's your aim?"

I guessed where he was going with this, but answered anyway. "Fantastic. Kobe Bryant has nothing on me."

"I was a skater in school, not a jock, so my aim is terrible. Which means that you will have the advantage in this."

"Advantage in what?" I questioned, slightly exasperated.

"We forget about the wish and turn this into a bet," he finally revealed. "The first one to get four coins into the dish is the winner and has to think of something for the loser to do."

"Such as?" I prompted suspiciously.

"Well, if I win," He pointed in the direction of the bar above us. "You buy me a drink."

"Does everything revolve around alcohol for you?"

"Since I turned twenty-one, yes," Edward quipped back. "Is there a song that you hate?"

The randomness of his question threw me off, and I stared at him for a moment. "Huh?"

"Is there a song that you really hate and can't stand listening to? Like, you'd rather stab your ears with a rusted knife than listen to it?"

I laughed and then tried to think of a song. "Well, when I was in middle school everyone was obsessed with that band, Kings of Leon. They had that song 'Sex on Fire'?" I prompted and Edward nodded. "It got too much airplay – on the radio, on TV and in malls. _Everywhere_. That whole band was overhyped in my opinion."

"'Sex on Fire.' Okay," Edward mused with a nod. "If I win, you buy me a drink, plus everyone else in that bar another round. _And_," he added with a grin. "You have to sing everyone's order individually, including mine, to the tune of the 'Sex on Fire.'"

"That's mean," I complained, splashing his feet with water.

His smile stretched wider. "Maybe you'll get recognized and someone will record you on their cellphone and then post it on the Internet."

"That's really, _really_ mean." I splashed him harder this time. But Edward just cracked up laughing and I scowled at him. "Okay, fine," I said quickly. "But if I win . . ." I trailed off, unable to come up with anything. Edward's eyebrows quirked up slightly, challenging and it came to me. "You stay longer than your five hour layover in London," I proclaimed.

A little crease formed in his brow. "How much longer?"

"A week," I told him with a shrug.

"You're on," Edward declared. He said it with such confidence that I eyed the fountain with a slight grimace. I really hated 'Sex on Fire.'

Edward noticed my reluctance. "Scared?"

"Not scared. Just disappointed." I heaved out a dramatic sigh. "Now I'll never get my pony."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a half smile. He leaned over and held out a hand toward me. "If you do this, I'll buy you two ponies."

"Two?"

"I know a guy."

"Okay!" I said with faked enthusiasm and took his hand, letting him help me up the steps.

We stood shoulder to shoulder on the step and Edward nodded at me. "Ladies first."

I gripped my clutch with one hand and held a coin in the other. I steeled myself and took aim, throwing the coin. It soared in the air and for a moment, I was afraid I put too much force into the throw but it landed in the dish.

I whooped happily and Edward sniffed. "Lucky shot," he muttered.

I made a face at him and he held one coin over his thumbnail as if he were about to flip the coin for heads or tails. He tossed his coin and it followed almost the same path as mine in the dish.

We were too cocky in the second round and both our coins fell short. The third round, both our coins got in. But in the fourth round, I got my coin in while Edward missed his. It was now three to two in favor of me.

"I thought you were joking when you said you had fantastic aim," Edward said with a frown. It was the first time either of us had said anything since the first round, too busy focusing on getting our coins in. It was almost funny how serious we were taking this.

Almost. Because there was nothing funny about having to sing Kings of Leon in a bar and potentially having it go viral on the Internet.

"I was," I admitted. "But doing this has got me thinking that I should quit singing and do this for a living instead."

"Do what? Throw coins into a bowl?" Edward remarked sourly.

"I didn't peg you to be such a sore loser," I replied, smirking.

Edward bristled. "I haven't lost–"

"–yet," I cut in, now smiling widely.

Edward glared at me, but said nothing. I was finished with my coins but Edward was on his last one. He needed to get it in to win – and I couldn't let him do that. There was no way in hell I was singing that poor excuse for song in a bar full of people.

I had to do something to make Edward miss his shot.

While Edward prepared for his throw – rolling his shoulders back and squinting in concentration – I frantically tried to think of something.

_Pretend to twist your ankle!_

_Pretend to see a sea snake in the water!_

_Pretend to faint and fall in front of him so that he has to catch you!_

But my lame attempts to throw Edward off were unnecessary because as Edward raised his arm – God's voice called to us from above.

"Bella!"

It all happened so quickly that I'm sure if I had blinked, I would've missed it: one minute Edward was next to me with his arm raised mid throw – but the voice had startled him into toppling off our step and into the lighter grey area. He nearly lost his balance altogether but managed to straighten up just in time to see his coin miss the dish by about two feet.

"Yes!" I shouted joyously as Edward kicked the water angrily, letting out a vehement curse.

"Bella!" the voice called out again. I looked up to see God – in the form of Vera – leaning over the railing. I spotted a taxi behind her and she was holding my shoes in her hand. She did not look happy at all. "You've been down there for nearly an hour!" she shouted. "We need to go!"

"We gotta go," I reiterated quickly to Edward. He stepped out of the deep end, grimacing as the water sloshed around his legs and we made our way up the steps again.

"Why is Rosalie's maid of honor yelling at you?" Edward asked, looking at Vera and then down at his feet. Going up steps submerged in water was harder than going down so we had to move slowly.

But we were moving even slower still because Edward's pants were wet from his sudden fall and they were weighing him down.

"She's also my publicist," I told him at the same time that Vera yelled again.

"Hurry _up_!"

"Be _patient_!" I yelled back and then turned to Edward. "My flight probably leaves soon. We must be running late," I pushed up Edward's sleeve to see his watch. "Or not. Two hours? Dammit, Vera. We have plenty of time," I muttered to myself. I glared up at Vera, whose glare back to me was much more impressive. "Anyway," I continued, shaking my head once and turning back to Edward. "Two hours is good. That should be enough time for us to go back to the hotel for your things."

Edward looked confused. "What things?"

"Your clothes and stuff?" I said pointedly. Edward cocked his head, eyebrow raised. "Unless you want to buy new clothes when we get to London. Which, in my opinion, you probably shouldn't. It will be a lot cheaper if you–"

I cut myself off as Edward's confusion changed to amusement and he started to laugh.

It was my turn to be confused. "What's so funny?"

"You are." Edward laughed a little as he stepped over the railing and he bent down to retrieve his shoes. "I'm not actually going to London with you, Bella."

I followed after him, nearly tripping over the railing. "What?!" I squawked indignantly.

He started to say something but Vera chose that moment to swoop into our conversation.

"Have you been down here all this time?" she questioned straight away, and I turned to her distractedly. She had changed out of her maid of honor dress to a green shirt and jeans and wore a worried expression. "You said you'd be back at the hotel! I've been waiting for you for nearly half an hour! And then I tried to call you–"

"I'm sorry. I got carried away and didn't keep track of time," I interrupted, impatient to talk to Edward. "Can you give me a minute before we go please?"

She gaped at me for a split second before pushing my shoes into my hands with a huff. "No! We don't have a _minute_! We need to get to the airport!"

"We have time," I told her, exasperated. "Nearly ninety minutes. And you need to calm down," I added, frowning at her as I slipped my shoes back on. "You always get like this before we leave for an airport. Your rushing makes me nervous, Vera."

"I rush because you dawdle," Vera retorted. "How many flights have we missed because of my rushing?"

I noticed Edward watching us with a bemused smile as he looked from me to Vera, and back again. He caught my eye, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder as he said, "I think I'm going to head back to the hotel."

"Oh no you don't." I pointed to him. "You're coming to London."

Edward shook his head. "I'm really not."

"You lost!" I shot back. "We made a bet, Edward Cullen."

Edward scoffed. "It was stupid bet. If I had won, you wouldn't actually be ordering me a jack and coke to the tune of 'Sex on Fire.'"

"Yes I would be!" I said, throwing my hands in the air. "As the _loser _I would follow through because that would be the _fair _thing to do!"

"Sex on Fire?" Vera chimed in with a deep frown. "Isn't that Kings of Leon? Bella, why are you singing Kings of Leon? You hate Kings of Leon. What the hell happened down at that fountain?"

Edward and I both ignored her. "Singing Kings of Leon in a bar full of people is not the same as spending a week in a foreign country," Edward said, glowering at me. "I'm not going to London, Bella."

I bristled. "Why not? Give me a good reason why. And don't say because it's crazy," I added quickly. "Because there's a lot of crazy things happening in the world and going to London for a week does not count as crazy."

"I have a perfectly legitimate excuse for why I can't go," Edward responded adamantly.

"Okay, why?"

"Because it's crazy," he said flatly. I flared up, ready to retort when Vera cut in again.

"I don't understand what is going on between you two right now and I don't want to understand," she said and turned to me. "But what I _do_ know is that whatever you're trying to convince him to do" –she nodded to Edward– "isn't working, so you need to let it go. And also, _we_ need to go," she added with heavy emphasis and an idea occurred to me.

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep a neutral expression. "Fine," I said in a controlled tone to Vera. "We can go."

Vera looked relieved and turned toward the taxi. I walked after her, Edward falling into step beside me after a moment.

He gave me an uneasy glance. "I'm not trying to be a jerk, Bella," he remarked hesitantly. "By not following through on my side of the bet. I can't just _go _to London–"

"I get it," I interrupted. Vera slipped into the backseat of the taxi, and Edward and I stood by the open door. "And you're right; it was just a stupid bet."

He nodded, smiling a little. "It was fun though. I had fun."

"Fun that turned into wetting your pants," I responded teasingly and he laughed lightly. "It'll be uncomfortable to walk back to the hotel in those." I waved a hand to the backseat through the open door. "We'll give you a ride."

"We will?" Vera called out from the backseat.

I leaned down to talk to Vera. "Yes," I said firmly, widening my eyes at her in an attempt to silently send her a message. "I never got the chance to say goodbye to Rosalie and Emmett."

"Don't worry about them," Vera dismissed. "I took care of it."

I clenched my jaw. I needed to get Edward into the car. "I would _really_ like to go back to the hotel to say goodbye to them."

Vera huffed. "They're not doing the honeymoon thing and they'll be back in London the day after tomorrow. And they're planning on having a get-together at their place this weekend. We're invited so you can just see them then. Plus," she added impatiently. "The hotel is in the opposite direction of the airport."

Edward spoke up above me. "I don't mind walking. Really."

"Vera!" I hissed softly. If I widened my eyes any further, they'd pop out of my head.

Vera finally caught on to my blatant hints and rolled her eyes. "Fine. We'll take him back to the hotel." She scooted down the backseat. "It can be my one good deed for the year."

"Thank you, Vera." I smiled sweetly at her, then straightened up. "After you." I gestured for Edward to get in first, putting him in the middle. He looked a little reluctant, so I added, "Vera won't bite."

"Only because I haven't had a chance to sharpen my teeth!" Vera said loudly.

Edward let out a laugh–that sounded a little forced–before finally getting in the taxi. Stepping in after him, I shut the door and Vera told the driver to go back to the hotel.

"Actually," I declared as we turned away from the curb. I leaned forward to look at Vera. "I think you're right – we should probably head straight to the airport."

"I told you so," Vera responded haughtily. "Driver – change of plan. Stick to the original destination."

"Wait, what?" Edward said, panicky.

"I think it's really nice that you're so quick to trust people." I snickered at him. "I can't believe you actually thought we were taking you to the hotel."

"Bella!" Edward looked stricken. "I'm not going to London with you!"

Vera leaned forward, frowning at me. "Why is he coming to London with us?"

"We made a bet," I explained. Edward glanced around the taxi seemingly trying to look for escape options. "He lost so he has to stay in London for a week."

"No, I don't," Edward said curtly.

"Yes, you _do_," I emphasized, glaring at him.

"Okay," Vera remarked slowly, glancing between Edward and me. "But who is he?"

"He's Edward Cullen."

"Driver – stop the car please," Edward said suddenly.

"He doesn't speak English," I jumped in quickly.

"Actually, I do," the driver responded, his eyes darting to me in the rearview mirror and I mouthed "sorry."

Edward shifted in his seat, taking out a fistful Euro bills from his pants pocket. He thrust it at the driver. "_Please_, pull over."

Vera gave Edward a droll look. "You do know you're bribing him with the equivalent of twelve dollars, right?"

Edward pushed the money back into his pocket. "I can't believe I'm being kidnapped by Isabella Swan," he declared with a groan.

"I'm not kidnapping you," I began to say, but the driver talked over me.

"You're Isabella Swan?" the driver asked, turning around in his seat.

"Eyes on the road!" Vera barked. The driver righted himself, arching his neck to get a better look at me in the rearview mirror and I gave him a small wave. "Bella," Vera hissed at me, giving me a look over Edward's head that he was currently holding in his hands. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing," I insisted heavily. "I just tricked Edward into getting in the car so that I could convince him to come to London."

Edward let go of his head so that he could eye me warily. "Are you confusing 'convincing' with 'kidnap'? Because that's what this feels like."

"You're making it sound like I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and toss you onto the plane," I said in exasperation. "And I would only do that if you've got your passport with you. Which you don't . . . or do you?" I added. Edward gaped at me and I laughed. "I'm kidding! This is fun."

Edward gave me a weak smile but still seemed somewhat freaked out, which I felt bad about.

The airport came into view and the driver stopped at the curb of the departure terminal for our flight. We stepped out of the car and the driver immediately pounced on me, talking about how much his daughters loved my music, while Vera stood waiting at the trunk of the car for him to take out her luggage. I nodded, smiling politely as the driver chattered about my face being all over his daughters' rooms.

Edward hovered beside us looking awkward, so I cut into the driver's babbling. "Your girls sound sweet. I can sign something for them if you like?"

The driver perked up and ducked into his cab for a moment, before returning with a piece of paper to me.

"My luggage, please, driver?" Vera called out to the driver, her patience worn out. The driver didn't respond, either ignoring Vera or not seeming to hear her as he relayed his daughter's names to me. I shot her an apologetic look and signed the paper.

"Thank you so, _so_ much!" the driver said and continued thanking me profusely. Vera looked so mad that it wouldn't have surprise me if she'd turned green and had thrown the taxi at the driver's head.

I cut the driver off mid-sentence again. "It's just an autograph," I told him awkwardly and nodded at Vera. "Could you help my friend with her luggage please?"

"Oh, yes!" The driver hurried to the trunk looking flustered as Vera directed furiously rapid Maltese at him.

Finally, I turned back to Edward. "Sorry," I said, hoping I sounded sincere.

"For being recognized or trying to convince me to go to London by tricking me into getting into a taxi with you?" Edward prompted in amusement.

"I didn't _try_," I said firmly. "I _did _convince you and now you're coming."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Okay. Let's say, hypothetically, that I do go to London–"

"Actually. You're actually coming to London."

He ignored me. "That I _hypothetically _go to London–that would I be doing there?"

"You'd be with me," I blurted out. Edward eyebrows quirked up, and I continued hastily. "I could show you London. I've lived there long enough to know my way around and take you places."

"Shouldn't you be busy?" Edward prompted. "You know, doing famous people things?"

"Famous people take holidays too," I teased. "I'm not really doing anything right now, to be honest," I admitted. "I'm just waiting for my record company to offer me another record deal or _not _offer me a record deal. Then I'll be spending the next week drinking–either celebrating another record deal or drowning my sorrows in not getting another deal. And I'm willing to sacrifice alcohol to play tour guide for a week."

Edward was looking at me as if I were suggesting he hop a rocket to the moon. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I like alcohol . . . but not all the time?"

Edward's face broke into a smile. "I mean, you'd really show me around London? Why?"

He had me there. My idea was totally crazy. I didn't even know him. Meeting Edward here was not what I had expected. This whole conversation was not what I had expected. I hadn't expected a conversation with Edward Cullen at the international airport of Valletta, Malta _period_.

So I gave him some spiel that got ridiculous the more I went on. "Why not? This is what my life is, you know? Why not write a song and record yourself singing it and send it out to record companies? Why not write an album and then another album and go on a tour around Europe, singing to thousands of people? Some people ask me 'why?' and I say 'why not?'"

Edward glanced around him, squinting slightly into the semi-darkness.

"What are you looking for?"

"The poster you just read all that off of," he answered. "It must be here somewhere." I laughed at him. He smiled back and my insides swooshed. "London. . ." he remarked musingly. I watched, a bit too intensely as he brushed his fingertips across his lips, rubbing his smile away. "It would be a crazy thing for me to do," he said. "To drop everything and go to London."

"Crazier than having blue hair for a year?" I prompted him.

Edward sighed. "Do you really need to keep bringing that up?"

"Your hair was bright _blue_."

He tried again. "I have work. I'd need a good excuse to leave for a week."

"Just tell your boy band that being the handsome one is really difficult, and you need some down time."

"Thanks," he said with a light laugh. "I'll keep it in mind."

I spotted Vera watching Edward and me from inside the airport through the glass windows. She caught my eye and tapped her wrist, scowling.

"You're not even wearing a watch!" I called out to her. She glared at me before walking toward the security gates. Edward glanced behind him, puzzled. "I have to go," I added quickly. Vera had my boarding pass and I needed to catch up her before she went through security. "Here." I opened my clutch and took out a random business card that had been sitting in my bag for weeks and an eyeliner pencil. I hurriedly scribbled down my phone number and handed it to him.

"What's this for?" Edward asked with wide eyes.

"I figure that you calling me when you come to London is easier than me yelling for you on top of Big Ben until you answer back."

He turned the card over between his fingers. "I'm not coming to London, Bella."

"I'll see you soon," I said with a grin, and then brushed past him toward the entrance doors to the airport. He followed me, but stayed on the outside and we continued shouting at each other through the glass.

"You won't be seeing me soon!" He shook his head sternly. "Because I'm not coming!"

"I will!" I called back, grinning widely. I weaved in and out of the people inside, trying to get to Vera and saw Edward doing the same, dodging taxi drivers and rolled suitcases on the outside.

"Why are you so frustrating?" he shouted at me.

"Because I'm good at it! You know what else I'm good at?"

"Being really, _really_ frustrating?"

"No! Being a tour guide around London!"

"That's great! Too bad I'll never get to see you use your touring skills!"

"If you're not coming to London–then why are you still following me?"

"I'm following you because ivy doohooed I shawed caw!"

I stopped walking abruptly and stared at him in confusion through the glass. "What?" I called out.

"IVY DOOHOOED I SHAWED CAW! MIME CAWING" Edward shouted insistently.

I shook my head at him. "I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"

"Bella!"

I jumped slightly, turning to see Vera next to me. She was gawking at me, wide eyed as were a lot of other people around her. That's when I realized the glass must be of double thickness because it was near the security checkpoint that led to the departure gates. And _then_ I realized that I had just yelled in front of an airport security checkpoint, as well as whole bunch of people that included custom officers, flight attendants, pilots and other passengers.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly in a normal tone. The onlookers continued with what they were doing and Vera just let out a sigh, holding out my boarding pass.

"We need to go," she told me. She glanced at Edward, glowing at him. "_Now_," Vera added in irritation.

"I'm coming," I assured her quickly. She glowered at me too, then flounced off toward one of the queues.

I turned to Edward again. On his side of the glass, people were eyeing him too and although he ignored them, he cheeks were slightly pink and his hands were in his pants pockets.

"I have to go," I mouthed at him, holding up my boarding pass.

He nodded and smiled. A smile that seemed to be just for me.

We remained like that for several seconds, stuck in an odd staring contest, before I gave him a final wave and walked toward a checkpoint.

* * *

**A/N #1: **Most of the Malta references in this chapter are made up. There is an Angels Dump and a myth that goes with it, but I've tweaked them both to fit the story.

**A/N #2: **I have nothing against Kings of Leon. They were just the first band to pop into my head when I wrote this.

Sorry about the wait. Thanks so much for reading!

_Will xoxo  
_


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